Holding In The World
by sinister-assassin
Summary: When Dr. Kate Corrigan goes missing, her niece seeks the help of the Bureau, and everyone's favorite red agent to recover her. A friendship neither was expecting ensues. (HBxOC) Comicverse characterization in Movieverse-ish setting. Rating will go up, eventually.
1. Chapter 1

_Hey y'all. I'm the Sinister-Assassin, the author of the following little foray into fanfic. I've written other stories on here under a different pen name in the past (And when I say past, I'm referring to almost ten years ago… Yikes.), and none of them ever really stuck. But I _will _mention that this particular story has been kicking around in my head for a good seven months, or so, so I have faith that I'll at least be able to get to the good parts. And hopefully finish it one day :-)_

_ Some quick mentions: I do not own any characters mentioned from here, forward with the exception of the OC Charlotte Adler and some other minor characters. Hellboy is the intellectual property of Mike Mignola/Dark Horse Publications/Guillermo Del Toro. This story has elements of both comic and movie. The fic's name (Holding In The World) is inspired by the Bob Schneider song of the same name. Give it a listen on spotify or something, because Bob Schneider is amazing. If I was inspired by a specific piece of music, I'll be sure to mention it in the chapter openers. Also, the rating will most certainly go up eventually. That's your fair warning. ;-)_

_ Okay! Hopefully you'll enjoy! -S.A._

_-o-_

The autumn leaves tumbled around the Bureau of Paranormal Research and Defense campus as the sun cast its' weak golden afternoon light on anything it could reach. Despite the sun's efforts, the wind pinched with a slight chill that would have let anyone know that it was no longer the summer season, and hadn't been for a while yet.

It was Saturday, not that that meant anything to Hellboy. Being a former ward and current tenant of Bureau campus housing, not to mention being on their payroll for forty-plus years, had put him at the mercy of his job. At their beck and call, he made himself available, a circumstance that was used by the bureau almost to the point of abuse. A weekend was a myth in his eyes.

Being a tenant of campus housing was a double-edged sword for Hellboy. In the years since his public self-outing six years previous, during a particularly messy and public battle with a demon terrorizing New York City, followed by an even messier and more public breakup with longtime girlfriend and pyrokinetic Elizabeth Sherman in the year following, he'd found that he'd become Old Hat with the East Coast population. They all knew he was real (despite Tom Manning's pathetic attempts to explain his exploits away), they knew he wasn't a threat, and once they found out that he was more blue-collar than red devil, they'd all but lost interest in him, aside from a handful of individuals who got overly excited to see him out in the open, in his opinion. Luckily his newfound public acceptance had allowed him to gain access to residency outside the chokehold of the Bureau basement.

Manning had begged him not to move out, admitting that as their most valuable agent ("Ha! So you _do_ admit it!"), the bureau needed him close by in case of imminent threat or disaster. He eventually obliged Manning by having his own personal apartment constructed in the nearby old neighboring factory buildings on the campus, just a hop, skip, and jump away from the office.

He'd settled on an open layout of two bedrooms, a large bathroom, and a smallish but nice open kitchen off to the side of the main living room. The living space wasn't huge, but it was enough for someone his size to live comfortably (complete with its brick walls, tall ceilings, and roomy patio area complete with a Zen garden), and that's all that counted. It was also strangely easier to keep tidy, with more storage than the glorified closet he'd lived in on the Bureau's main site. It had been especially nice, he'd realized, to have a place to head after the end of the long day at the office, that wasn't within a 100-foot vicinity of it all. And at the end of any day, especially days like the one he'd just had, the idea of peace was always welcome.

"Home, sweet home," he sighed in his deep baritone as he dropped his duster over the back of the couch, kicking off combat boots as he made his way to the kitchen. He flung the fridge open, sparse except for a bottle of hot sauce and about thirty-six glass bottles of beer. "Not sure what I expected," he grumbled as he grabbed the closest two out of the door. "Hey, Shortstack!"

The brown tabby cat wended his way through his legs, rubbing along his hooves in greeting. He slammed the fridge door shut and the cat went scurrying out of the kitchen. He'd upgraded in square footage, but he'd also downgraded the amount of cats he'd accumulated; most had been given great homes with the kids of some of the agents. Of the few he'd kept, Shortstack, the youngest, was the last one left.

He flopped back onto his couch, beer in hand with a second at the ready. Shortstack hopped up next to him, settling on a blanket. He took a long drink, killing half the beer in one go as he began sinking back into the comforting warmth of the couch. "Finally, some downtime, right?"

Something gave a loud chirp in response.

"What the-"

"URGENT MESSAGE" sang a creepy monotone male voice from his rarely used landline's answering machine.

Struggling to push himself up off the couch, he ambled over to the machine to investigate. _Normally just blinks at you… never made that noise before_…

It was blinking, but a light blipped beside the normal message light, indicating that the message- leaver had marked it urgent.

"Well, shit…" he sighed, pressing play. _There goes my grand plans for the evening._

He was greeted by static silence. "…Nobody. Thank God for small favors," he began, starting his left hand toward the delete key, when a woman began to speak.

"Oh… Okay, so, this is a message for… whoever…"

His brow furrowed in amusement as he made his way back to the couch as he listened. _What a way with words, this one._

"…There wasn't an outgoing greeting so I'm not really sure who I'm leaving this message for… anyway… Uh, my name is Charlotte Adler… and I need your help."

"Yeah, yeah, don't you all," he sighed as he absentmindedly stroked Shortstack beside him, draining half a beer. Charlotte Adler continued talking, seemingly irked that he didn't have an outgoing greeting.

"I was given- well, no, I _found_ this number in a file in my aunt's home office… with instructions to call it in case anything ever happened to her, and, um…. I'm pretty sure something's happened."

He heard her heave a great sigh. "Look, I-I don't know who this message _really_ is for, since you don't have an outgoing greeting-"

"Which you've already mentioned, smartass," he grumbled.

"-And there was only instructions to call this number in case of emergency, but my aunt, who I'm assuming you know in some way, disappeared on a research trip in Tunisia. I'm not exactly sure how long she's been actually missing, as she was only supposed to arrive back to the states last week..."

"Well, who's your aunt?" he jokingly asked the recording.

"…My aunt is Dr. Kate Corrigan, by the way, if that means anything to whoever you are…"

It did. His interest fully piqued, he sat up straight, looking at the answering machine as if it were a human.

"I'd like to say more, but as you can probably tell I'm pretty awful at leaving messages, and this one's already a mess, so… it's a shot in the dark, I know. Her emergency file was pretty old and dusty, I'm not even sure if this is still a serviceable line. But if you _are_ able to help, in any way at all, if you wanna discuss this further, my cell number is…"

He scrambled for a pen, scribbling down the numbers hastily on a sticky note. "You can call me, or send me a text message. Thanks. Again… Kate Corrigan's niece. Charlotte Adler."

His heart was beating rapidly. The message sounded legitimate. It would be completely like Kate to write his number down as an emergency contact, and it was true, he hadn't put an outgoing message on the voicemail box for the several years he'd had it. Had Kate ever mentioned having nieces or nephews? He knew she'd had a sister who had died a few years back, but no mention of nieces or nephews. However, he _did_ know someone who would know.

He fished his cell phone out of his coat pocket, pressing two on his speed dial.

"Red?" inquired Abraham Sapien's voice over the line.

He cracked another beer. "Hey, Abe, I've got a question for you… It's about Katie."

Abe was silent at the mention of Kate's name. Then, "Sure, Red. What's the question?"

"Did, uh… did she ever mention having any nieces or nephews? I mean, I know she had a sister, but…"

"She has a niece and a nephew. They were her late sister Amy's."

He nodded. "Ah-hah, I knew you'd know. Anything else about them?"

"Sure, if I recall… they grew up in California, I believe they lived with their father once Amy passed… the nephew around thirteen or fourteen by now, and her niece would be in her mid twenties. Last I spoke with her, Kate mentioned that she was completing her graduate studies in Anthropology at the local University."

"In Jersey?"

"Yes."

"Alright… But she did say she was at Kate's _office_… Does Kate still have her apartment in town?"

"As far as I know… Red? What's this about? Is everything alright?"

He walked over to the answering machine. "I dunno, you tell me. Have a listen to this message." He held the cell phone up to the machine as Charlotte's animated voice struck up once more.

"That's what I came home to today," he began wryly following the message. "Sounds legit, right? I mean, Kate's always been one to throw herself into her work and go off the grid for months on end, I mean, hell, I don't think I've spoken to her in person for a good half a year or more now, but I'm a bit worried about _this_. And if her niece was worried enough to call me…"

"Call her back. Set up a meeting as soon as possible. I'm not getting a good feeling, Red."

"Me either. I'll keep you posted." Hellboy closed his phone, looking down at the half-drunken beer.

"Well, old friend. It was nice while it lasted."

Instead of enduring a phone conversation with the seemingly tightly wound woman, he opted for an instant text.

_Responding to your message. Yes, I know your aunt. Are you in the area of her apartment in Newark?_

He had only to wait a few moments before a response chirped back.

_OMG! YES! i am_._ am i correct in assuming this is one of her coworkers from bprd?_

A few seconds later…

_i know i didn't mention bprd over the phone, but the prefix wasn't a bprd landline so i didn't want to immediately assume until_ _i recd a response._

He shook his head, sighing. "Shit."

_Yes, I'm with the BPRD. The sooner we meet, the better. I can meet you at Clancy's Tavern on west 87th in an hour. Will that work?_

_YES! thank you. i'll see you there._

"That's what I'm afraid of," he grumbled, downing the rest of the beer before throwing a shirt and his coat on, and heading for the door.


	2. Chapter 2

_Alright, in honor of the Hellboy marathon that occurred on FX movie channel today, I had to post another chapter. I know it's super cliché, but I definitely listened to "Heart Attack and Vine" by Tom Waits when I was editing this (supposedly HB's fave musical artist, as well as his intro song in the first movie), as well as John Martyn's "Excuse Me Mister". Both artists are amazing and personal favorites of mine. _

_Anyway! Almost out of the woods as far as setting the scene goes. This is kinda just business as usual, but Charlie makes her actual debut, so… hopefully those of you who have fav'ed and reviewed (thank you so much by the way!), as well as those who are new to the story will enjoy it! –S.A._

_-o-_

The walk to Clancy's from the BPRD campus wasn't terribly long, but the teasing cold of the afternoon winds had turned into a biting chill that made Hellboy glad he'd had the sense to at least throw a shirt on under his usual overcoat. Luckily nobody stopped him in the street, as they sometimes did- whether to grab a quick picture or complain about personal problems as if he could fix it by punching so-and-so with his right hand. In the years prior, he'd come to realize that people were sometimes overly intrusive on his personal space. He had to remind himself that as a figure of curiosity in the oh-so-glamorous profession of public servitude, he had to suck it up, grin, and bear it.

The sky had all but fully darkened by the time he'd turned down the alley off 87th where Clancy's Tavern stood. It wasn't warm or welcoming by any standards, but Clancy kept a fairly stocked bar and was sympathetic to Hellboy's line of business, he himself being entrenched in the supernatural. The customer base at Clancy's left much to be desired, and he had a strong suspicion that there was a lesser troll market portal somewhere in the downtown area.

He pushed the door open, stepping in to the dark, floor-to-ceiling wood paneled bar, which resembled little more than a glorified long hallway archaically decorated in ornate placards and spotty mirrors. Inside was no better than out, temperature-wise. The patrons kept their heads down, conversing quietly amongst themselves. A prematurely balding man with borderline albino coloring Hellboy had never seen was behind the bar, cleaning glasses. He took a cursory glance around the front, noticing a lack of any lone, frightened women. Concluding that he was early, he sidled up to the bar.

"Evenin'. What can I get you?" asked the man, setting down his glass.

"Two fingers of Glenlivet, neat."

The man nodded and turned, grabbing the appropriate scotch, giving a pour into a clean glass set out on the bar. The man slid it toward him, and he nodded in thanks.

"Clancy in tonight?"

"Stepped out for a bit. You a friend?"

"Something like that. I conduct a lot of business meetings here, I guess you'd call it. Are you the new bartender?"

The man nodded, his eyes twitching toward the back corner of the bar. "Clancy and my old man go a ways back. 'Spose he hated seein' me out of work, so he throws me a couple of shifts a month. I'm William."

"Hellboy."

"I know who you are, mister Hellboy. I think everyone does," he said with a small creepy smile. His eyes traveled down the long room toward the back again, craning his neck slightly this time.

"Can I inquire as to what you're looking at, William?"

William gave another unsettling smile, looking down at the floor. "There's a girl in here."

Hellboy almost rolled his eyes, but restrained himself. "What, never seen a girl before, pal?"

"Not one like her, not in _here_ anyway," he said quietly. "Been waitin' in the back corner for goin' on twenty minutes now. No drink or nothin'. Normally I'd ask her to leave, since she's not puttin' down money for no drinks, but I was thinkin' of goin' over and tryin' to get her to ditch whatever loser she said she was waitin' for, and leave with me, instead."

"Hold on a sec," he began, grabbing his scotch from the bar. "I think know who she's waiting for."

"Who, you?" William asked.

"Hmm. Maybe…" Hellboy trailed off. He grabbed his drink off the bar, starting toward the back booth William had indicated, occupied by a turned figure. He threw some cash on the bar, tossing a quick "Thanks," back to William, who nodded in return.

As he walked toward the back, he noticed the woman in the booth had long, light blonde hair that glimmered as she shook her head. His heartbeat slightly sped up as he approached the booth, clearing his throat. She wore a slinky red dress that looked as if it had been painted directly onto her tall, slender figure. At the sound of his approach, she slightly turned her head in his direction, hand and hair slightly obscuring her face as he spoke.

"Ah, excuse me, I… don't mean to disturb you, but I'm supposed to meet someone… would you happen to be waiting for-"

"-A sexy devil like you to come keep me company?" the woman purred shyly from behind her hair. Her violet eyes flashed a piqued interest. "I wasn't before, but I think I am now."

She turned her body fully in the booth to face him, letting her hand fall away from her near-perfect face. His eyes fully locked with hers as her perfect lips parted and a blinding white smile spread. He opened his mouth to respond, but his eye was caught by one of her teeth, glinting in the light. It immediately twitched, like a glitch on a computer screen, before growing grey right before his eyes. Soon all of her teeth were decomposing before his eyes, twisting themselves into dull points. The white blonde hair became frazzled and fine. Soon her skin was mottling, sagging, and warping her face into a visage that immediately alerted him to her true identity.

_Troll glamour. Figures._ The corners of his mouth curled up in disgust.

"Yeesh. Sorry, lady, but you're _definitely_ not who I'm looking for." He downed his drink, coughing as the troll's stench assaulted his nostrils.

"How could I _not_ be what you're looking for? I'm what _every_ man's looking for," she spat indignantly, gesturing down at her body, unaware that he had seen her true form. Her voice had changed from light and feminine to a gravelly pitch that sounded suspiciously like an old crone.

"Yeah, well, forgive me, but uh… I can see through it. A few years of learning what to look for, and I can spot any_ troll_ I meet. Congrats on that disguise, though. You look like a real… 'Lady of the night'."

The troll stood up, her face nearly level with his, despite having a deeply hunched back. "Spare me the story, demon. As if you were _actually_ waiting for someone here. I bet you saw me in the corner and couldn't help but prey-"

"Again, you're not my type. Also, '_prey_', really? A, no, and B, Pot, meet kettle. You're black. Why don't you calm yourself down and go back to your pathetic game of Spider and Fly with someone else? Honestly, I have half a mind to out you to all the other respectable patrons in this joint, you pathetic, glamour-wearing cat killer."

A look of fear struck across the troll's ugly features. "You wouldn't."

"_Try me_. And hey, stop eating cats, while you're at it. If I so much as hear tell on the streets about you or any of your troll contemporaries dining on cats, I'll-"

"Fine! _Fine_." She hissed quietly, looking around before getting in his face. "I only wanted to have a good time. Most men in here are so quick to fall for a pretty face."

Despite her rancid breath, he held his ground. "Yeah. Well. I'm sure your idea of a 'good time' is probably actually a horrible time for anyone else involved. Fortunately for me, I've dealt with enough trolls to be able to see through bullshit disguises. And fortunately for you, the man behind the counter over there seems to be like putty in your hands already. I'm sure he won't mind your… stranger kinks."

She glanced toward the counter, sizing up William, who was practically salivating at the sight of her looking his way. He was apparently to her liking, as she tossed her hair back embarrassedly. "He'll have to do. I _do_ so like it when they submit. Thank you… I _suppose_. But if not me, then who do you seek?"

"A female. _Human_."

The troll balked, looking over his shoulder. "What, like _her_?"

He turned his head, following the troll's indignant gaze down toward the front half of the bar. His eyes landed on a young woman who seemed to have just walked in moments before. She looked desperately out of place as she pulled her navy jacket tighter around her figure, brows drawn in palpable discomfort and confusion under a crocheted beanie. She was obviously trying to not make eye contact with anyone. With her petite stature and fair coloring, if she wasn't related to Kate, then he didn't know who was.

"Bingo. Get lost, Humpy," he gestured with his thumb for the indignant troll crone to remove herself from the back of the bar.

She hastily grabbed her coat and bag, teetering on Lucite heels toward the front of the bar. Hellboy watched as her glamour grew stronger, covering any trace of troll-ness. She tromped up to William, still cleaning glasses, behind the counter, and gave her best sex kitten grin to him. William fumbled the glass, saving it before it fell to the ground. The troll managed to look over her shoulder to the young woman, giving a jerk of her head toward the back where Hellboy stood. "Down there… he's all yours."

The presumed Charlotte looked startled at having been addressed so brashly. "Uh, thank… you?" she managed to say as the crone continued her barkeep ensnarement. She looked down at the floor before finally looking up at Hellboy, walking toward him. She appeared slightly uneasy, but he was happy to note no visible fear in her eyes, at least not readily viewable in the dimly lit bar. Though he was out as a public figure, he never knew how people, let alone clients, would react to him in the flesh.

"Charlotte Adler?" he asked, as she stopped a yard in front of him.

She sighed, her grey eyes locking on his, giving a tight smile. "Just Charlie… actually. But yes, that is me."

"Alright then, Charlie," he tested the name out, never having heard it on a girl before. He decided it fit her well. He stuck his left hand out in greeting. "I'm here on behalf of the BPRD. Hellboy."

Charlie nodded, her smile relaxing as he said his name. She'd clearly known who he was from the moment she'd seen him, long before he'd noticed her. She took his hand firmly in hers, shaking it. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Agent Hellboy."

"Just Hellboy… actually," he parroted her.

"Hellboy," she tried the name for herself, as well. She withdrew her small hand from his grasp. "Sorry, by the way, if I interrupted something important back there, with..." she began pragmatically, glancing back toward the she-troll, now tickling the underside of William's chin with a pointy finger. She cleared her throat in embarrassment. "I mean, I can totally come back later, if-"

"Nah, don't worry about her. She's just a troll," he said, waving his hand in riddance toward the door.

Her eyes narrowed. "Whoa there! Kinda harsh, don't you think? I mean, she's pretty gorgeous in an Icelandic, Amazonian… supermodel way… If you're into that sort of thing, that is."

"No, no, I mean, she's a _real troll_."

This gave Charlie pause for a moment. "Like, lives-under-the-bridge, eats-Billy-goats? That kind of troll?"

"You got it," he winked, gesturing to the booth they stood next to before sitting down.

She slid into the seat across from him, pulling her hat from her head as she blushed embarrassedly. "Clearly, I'm new to all this 'folklore and mythology-come-to-life' stuff. I mean, I'm familiar from a scholastic standpoint… it's just strange to see it in action."

"Welcome to my world. Hey, buddy." He waved a greeting to Clancy, who had just returned from his errand. The old man stepped behind the counter for a quick word with William, who darted for the door with the troll woman in tow as soon as he had the go-ahead.

Hellboy motioned for another scotch, before looking at Charlie for her order.

"Water's fine."

"Really? I'm buyin', kid"

"Well, I still have to walk back across town," she shrugged. "I'm a bit paranoid, is all. Don't get me wrong, I can usually put down a few drinks, but given the circumstances, I think I'll wait."

He sighed. "Gotcha. Where about across town do you live, if you don't mind my asking?"

"In Aunt Kate's condo, currently," she began. "Which is actually how all this mess started."

Clancy brought over Charlie's water and his scotch. He took a sip, extracting a pen and notepad from one of the many pockets of his duster, and a pair of reading glasses. He slipped the glasses on the end of his nose.

"Alright, so, let's start from the beginning. If I know your aunt, and I _do_ know her, she's the type that goes gallivanting into the wild at the drop of a hat for any chance to supervise on an artifact recovery or whatever it is Katie likes to do. She also loses herself in her work unlike anyone I've ever known. So what is it that makes you believe she's gone missing?"

Her brows drew together, considering the question. "I moved in with her in May, when she was still here. I'm attempting to finish up my graduate degree thesis at the college down the street," she began. "At the beginning of June, she flew off to the artifact recovery in Tunisia, and was supposed to be back somewhere in the middle of August."

"So, like you'd said, roughly a week ago?" He asked, failing to keep a light skepticism from his voice.

"I know what you're thinking, because I thought it, too... it would seem like it's too soon to tell if she was actually missing, given her penchant for taking her time... except for the fact that I have reasonable belief just outside of straight proof."

He looked up from his scribbling. "Which is what?"

"Well, I returned about a week ago from visiting my dad in California, where I grew up, expecting that aunt Kate might not be there. Which she wasn't. _I _know how she is, too. She's always been my favorite relative, and I'm pretty sure I'm her favorite niece."

He looked at her bemusedly. "She's got other nieces?"

"Well... No. But that's not my point. Anyway, yesterday I ran into a former professor of mine in the library at my college...Dr. Phillip DeLeon, who happens to be a friend and colleague of Kate's."

"Yeah, I'm familiar with DeLeon. Met him at a couple of events over the years. Heard he teaches a section of his course about yours truly."

"Really? I must have been absent that day," she smiled. "Anyway, he had been out in Jakarta a few days before, consulting on some cursed graves that were found right outside the city. So he started telling me about how the excavation had been going, and how they're going to call in the Bureau for an exorcism, so expect a phone call in a few days, I guess..."

He sighed heavily, massaging his temple. "Crap, that's my area of expertise. If you're right, looks like I'm goin' to Indonesia. Thanks for the heads up, by the way."

"Of course. So he mentioned the Bureau… and then asked me if Kate had returned from Jakarta yet."

"Jakarta? But she was in Tunisia," he countered, narrowing his eyes.

"I know," she nodded slowly. "Two completely different countries. Continents, even. Weird right? So I told him that he must be mistaken, since she never mentioned anything about going to Jakarta after Tunisia. He insisted she had been there. So… I asked him if she had mentioned why she had changed plans. I mean, things change, it happens. So here I am figuring that maybe she hadn't been able to access a phone or a computer, so she couldn't call me to tell me that she'd gone on another case. So I think, maybe she told Phil to seek me out at school and let me know that she was going to be gone another few weeks, or _something_..."

Her voice trailed off a little bit, and Hellboy saw a flash glimpse of sadness across her face. It clouded her grey eyes, revealing a scared, unsure young woman. The glaze persisted before her stoic mask snapped back on. He felt a pang of guilt in his gut.

"Where was I?" She shook her head. "Oh, yeah. So I asked him what she'd said to him, and he told me that he hadn't... actually talked to her."

"What?"

"Yeah, he... He said he saw her across an open-air marketplace, and he'd attempted to call out to her, but she'd vanished before he could catch up."

"So he didn't get a solid confirmation it was her? It could have been anyone."

Charlie nodded. "You're definitely right. It could have been anyone. Except it wasn't." She fumbled in her pocket and slid a folded piece of paper across the table to him.

"He'd been taking photographs a moment before he'd spotted her. Looks like she spotted him, first though." She picked up her glass of water, draining it of all but the ice, eyes on him as he fumbled to smooth the paper out.

A somewhat blurry black and white photo was shoddily printed out a piece of the flimsy printer paper. The photo showed a crowded scene, people in the Indonesian marketplace buying and selling their food and wares. It took him five seconds to spot her. The blonde woman, face turned toward the camera, in the upper left-hand corner. He wasn't sure if it was the blurry photo or a shadow playing on the face of the woman, but something was wrong with her. Even with a shawl wrapped around most of her head, it certainly looked like Kate, but he couldn't admit that outright without further proof.

He looked up from the paper to find Charlie staring at him from over her empty glass of water, clutched tightly in her hands. He searched her eyes for any unease at the individual she was sitting across from; sometimes it took a moment for the shock of meeting a real live demon to sink in with people. But her eyes only held an anxious hope that he would admit to recognizing her aunt, and know where to go from there.

He took a few moments to further examine her resemblance to Kate, which was easy to see. The differences were also apparent; Her hair was a dark honey, and styled differently than her aunt's short, light bob. She wore it slightly long, hanging down past her shoulders, with long bags swept to the side. Her eyes flashed a stormy blue grey, unlike her aunt's clear navy. Her naturally made-up face and choice of clothing told him that she was extremely calculated in her public appearance, whereas her aunt usually couldn't care less.

She seemed to squirm under his appraisal, but didn't say anything. He cleared his throat, looking back to the picture. "Well, it definitely looks like Katie, but it's too grainy to tell."

"I've got a larger copy on the computer back home," she offered. "In color. If you wanna see it."

He looked into his glass, now empty. "Yeah, a higher resolution might be nice."

"Alright," she shrugged, grabbing her bag. "Wanna get out of here?"

"What, now?"

She nodded, getting up. "Yeah, definitely now. We can go back to Kate's. I've got much better scotch at her place, big guy."

He held his hands up in mock surrender. "Twist my arm, why don'tcha?"

She gave him a grateful smile as he stood, nodding her head toward the front. "Alright, let's go."

"Lead the way," he conceded, throwing a twenty down on the bar for Clancy before heading for the door.


	3. Chapter 3

_Author Note: This is less of a "chapter 3" and more of a "chapter 3 part 1" because I really wanted to post it all on one chapter, but the scene got so damned long that I have to split it in two (I guess not a terrible problem to have!). But I'll be posting part 2, or "chapter 4" sometime tomorrow. :-) –S.A._

-o-

The sky was fully dark by the time they'd emerged, though only a short time had passed. She started toward the park that separated Kate's condominium from the downtown area. Hellboy fell into step beside her, and they walked alongside one another for a few moments. He covertly stole glances of his new companion. He watched as she pulled her hat back on her head before cocking her head toward him, opening her mouth as if to speak before closing it again. They had reached just beyond the entrance of the park when she finally spoke.

"Can I ask you something?"

_Oh boy, here we go..._

"Sure, Charlie."

"You... believe me, right?" she asked skeptically, as if she wouldn't be surprised if he didn't.

"Sure, I believe you, why wouldn't I? I just need to make sure that it's actually Katie in that picture before I go looking for her." He began patting his coat, finally locating what he was after in his left breast pocket.

She narrowed her eyebrows. "Why do you call her Katie?"

"What do you mean? That's her name, ain't it?" he said, fishing out a cigar and book of matches. "Mind if I smoke?

"Go for it. What I mean is, you know she goes by Kate usually, right?"

"Yeah. And?"

"I mean, she introduces herself as Kate or Katherine to everyone. Not even me or my brother call her Aunt Katie, or anything. Once I asked her why she chose to go by Kate, and she'd said it had just seemed more professional to her, and that it'd been hard enough to be accepted as a female in her line of work without a cutesy name like Katie. So, like, do you call her Katie to her face? Even now?"

"Yep."

"And... she doesn't mind?"

"Of course not."

"Hmm... I wonder _why_."

"Well, if you haven't already figured it out, I'm kinda schpecial," he quipped around the cigar, striking a match to light it.

"I'm starting to think that you _must_ be. She said the only person who was ever allowed to call her 'Katie' was an _old boyfriend_ of hers," she said accusingly.

"Hmm, Is that so?" He replied conversationally, simply smiling at her as he puffed away on his cigar.

She sighed, her exasperation palpable at his lack of information.

After a few moments of walking in silence went by, she couldn't leave it alone any further.

"So what, should I call you '_Uncle_ Hellboy', or something?" She jabbed lightly, her mouth curling up at the corner in a small smile.

"I would really prefer if you didn't."

"Why not?"

He took the cigar out of his mouth, clearing his throat. "Well, first off, it sounds a little creepy. Secondly, I get where you're going with this, and I'll tell you now that what your aunt and I had in the... romance department was extremely short-lived. Referring to me as a former boyfriend would be a bit of an overstatement. Besides, it happened a_ long_ time ago; I'm willing to bet sometime before you were even just a twinkle in your parents' eyes."

She rolled her eyes at the turn of phrase. "Well, I don't know about that... I'll be twenty-six in November, so you'd be talking about the mid to late eighties, in reference to me being 'just a twinkle'."

"It's been at _least_ that long... If not longer. I'm pushin' seventy, you know."

This seemed to throw Charlie through a loop. "What?! Get out. You look so... Good!"

He blew a large family of smoke rings. "Yeah, I get that a lot. Must be all the smoking and drinking I do."

She shook her head. "Seventy… crazy."

"Almost. Not quite yet. I'll be sixty-nine in December."

They continued in silence down along a dirt path that diverged from the brightly lit main walkway, on Charlie's insistence that it was a shortcut to the condo. The lights grew more and more dim the further they walked down the path, which ran next to a decent-sized pond. The silence hung like a fog between them, and her expression seemed to grow more melancholy as they went. Hellboy racked his brain for something, anything to say.

"So tell me... Did you attempt to contact any of her colleagues, get any information about when she left the first location?"

_Whoops, wrong thing to say. _The issue of Kate's disappearance seemed to be wearing her emotions thin, as shown by the strained expression on her face.

"I... tried, but nobody's really taken my calls yet. One guy did, but I didn't get much information from him. As far as I can tell, the artifact recovery in Tunisia concluded two and a half weeks earlier than they'd planned. She might've been missing already now for a while, and I'd had no clue," she said, slowing down her gait. "I just have no idea what could have…"

He stopped in his tracks, glancing down at her. She looked up into his eyes, glowing a dark golden in the hazy moonlight. She opened her mouth to respond, but was instead struck by another wave of emotion. _Cool it, Charlie_, she repeated in her head, but several morbid scenarios involving her aunt, dead or worse, flew through her mind. She shook her head, as if to clear her head of the morbid fog.

"Thank you... For listening. And helping. I haven't had anyone to really talk to about it, someone who understands the gravity of the situation until now, and it's just dawning on me… How bad this could possibly be. I've had this… nagging feeling for a few weeks now, right at night, right before I fall asleep. I don't sleep well, and I can't remember my dreams, but I know they haven't been good. I guess now I know why..." A tear escaped her eye as she blinked, turning away from Hellboy's concerned face.

"Hey, hey, hey," he crooned softly, putting his surprisingly gentle right hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry about it. You did the right thing. If anyone in the world can figure this out and bring her back, it's me. Or at the very least, The Bureau. Calling me was probably the best course of action you could have taken."

"Thanks. Also, sorry to get all emotional on you. I hate crying in front of other people." she sniffled. To her surprise, he slipped his arm around her, squeezing a bit.

"Don't be sorry," he said simply, shaking his head, guiding her along back on the path. "Nearly outta the woods now, so let's go get you- and me- a drink."

-o-

Kate's condominium was located in a quiet area a few blocks from the park. The Old Spanish Villa architecture with its' white exterior and terra cotta shingles seemed to glow under the street lamps like a beacon of warmth in the distance. Charlie could see her breath in front of her face in the colder air. She broke into a little jog-run, outstripping Hellboy as they approached the one story condo on the corner of a cul-de-sac. A grey Honda Accord sat outside the house.

"In a hurry?" He called ahead, leisurely falling behind to finish his cigar.

"It's c-cold!" She answered back, fishing in her bag for the keys.

"It's fifty degrees out," he estimated, crossing the street.

"Well, I'm a California wimp. You coming?" She asked, already half in the door.

"You go ahead, I'm right behind you." He watched as she disappeared into the house, seemingly in better spirits than ten minutes previously. _No use in wasting a good Cuban while it's lit_, he thought.

He loitered on the sidewalk, leaning against the Honda as he looked over the one-story condo. He'd been here once before, when Katie had moved in ten or fifteen years before. Had it really only been once? Since her workload with the bureau had been relaxed in recent years as she became a full-time professor, he'd only seen her, really talked with her, a handful of times. It seemed that his relationship with Katie had waned in recent years. At one point in time, they had been best friends, and briefly lovers, as correctly accused by Charlie.

And Charlie... How could he not have known that Katie had family? He wrestled over his lack of personal knowledge of Katie's life outside the general capacity of work. Had she given information and he just hadn't listened, or was it just that he'd never thought to ask? Abe had seemed to know just about everything about her in relation to her family, but he figured that was because Abe was nosy and read everyone's file like it was his goddamn job. Either way, it made him feel like a failure as a friend. He thought back on her sadness when her sister, Charlie's mother Amy, had died; She'd left in the dead of night in the middle of a mission for California, and hadn't returned to work for over a month following. It had been sudden, he remembered that..

_Charlie's mom,_ he thought, sympathizing with her over losing a parent so suddenly. _Like Pops. _And now with her aunt gone missing... He firmly resolved that he would make it a priority to find Kate for better or for worse, if only for the sake of her niece.

Taking a final draw that burned the cigar to a stump, he ashed it and headed for the door. He turned the handle, pushing the door inward to be immediately welcomed by a warm gust of air that barreled at him in the entryway. A neatly-folded piece of notepaper that read "Charlotte" in a spidery scrawl lay on the dark hardwood floor, presumably shoved through the mail slot. He stopped to pick it up, assuming she'd missed it on the way in.

The interior of the condo seemed to match the Spanish exterior. To his almost immediate left was a small tiled kitchen and eating area with a door out to what he presumed was a small patio. Ahead and to the right was the large living room, with a L-section couch and loveseat surrounding a large coffee table. One wall was entirely filled with books and small statues. Another wall was almost entirely windows, enclosed by privacy sheers and heavy velvet curtains in a deep shade of eggplant. A large, mantled fireplace on the left wall glowed bright with false gas flames; it did it's job well, though, as the heat emanating reminded him of just how unusually cold it was outside for a late August night. A dark hallway led from the room toward the back of the house, which had several doors, all shut but the second one on the right, which spilled light from its' barely-open crack.

He cleared his throat to announce his presence, assuming Charlie was within the lighted room. He stood with his back to the fire, enjoying the licking heat of the flames by his legs.

"One sec, sorry," came her voice. Almost immediately she appeared, and he watched as her shadowy silhouette emerged into the brightly lit living room. She'd changed out of her coat and jeans into a slouchy, cozy-looking sweater, and a pair of long black workout leggings that clung to her figure.

"I hate being in street clothes if I don't have to be," she offered, crossing her arms and standing with her back to the fire beside him.

"Nice place," he said, holding out the note to her. "This was on the ground next to the door, by the way."

She took it from him, opening it. She scanned it over, her face scrunching up as she read.

"What is it?" He asked, curiosity piqued.

"It's from Kate's neighbor. Stuart. He's kinda the landlord now. His dad owned this place when Kate moved in, and he was a great guy from what I've heard. When he retired, he left the property to Stuart."

"I'll assume from the look on your face that Stuart's not so great."

"You'd assume correctly," she grimaced again. "When I first met him, I thought he was a nice guy. But I found out real quick that he's one of those guys who expects something in return for his niceness, _other_ than reciprocation of friendship."

"Like wha- ...oh."

"Yeah," she raised a brow. "And Stuart is a special kind of asshole, because as the landlord, he uses my time and attention as a bargaining chip when I need something done, instead of oh, I don't know, actually doing his job and fixing the shit that's broken."

"How does something like that work?"

"This stupid note is a perfect example. The water heater's been on the fritz for a few weeks now, and the water only ever gets lukewarm, which is a huge source of frustration for me, since I like taking hot showers that turn me lobster-red. Besides, it's almost winter, and if it's _this_ cold already... Anyway, I asked him a few days ago when I got back to replace it or fix it, whatever he has to do. This note," she crumpled it into a ball, throwing it in a wastebasket. "Says that he's coming over _tonight_ when I'm home so we can discuss terms about getting it fixed free of charge... Ugh."

"Ah."

"I've seriously tried everything to get him to leave me alone. We hung out once, when I first moved in, because I thought, hey, I'm new to the area and it would be nice to have a friend, acquaintance, whatever nearby. But he had to go ruin it by asking me out, which I guess is nice and flattering and all that, but he proceeded to be a total ass about it when I declined. Since then I've tried everything to get him to let off. I even told him that I'm in a relationship now, but he won't quit with the come-ons and the ultimatums."

"Well, _are_ you seeing someone?"

She looked pointedly at him. "Well, no, not really. It's a pretty big lie, to invent a boyfriend out of the blue, I know. It was a stupid thing for me to do, especially since he didn't look convinced, and I have no way to convince him. Even if it _were_ true, I doubt he'd stop pestering me. I just wish he'd take it as a hint to leave me be and do his damn job as the landlord. I don't know. At some point tonight he's apparently gonna drop by. So I've got _that _to look forward to..."

"Sounds like a real winner. Can't wait to meet him," he smiled.

"Uh huh. Come with me, I'll show you that picture in better resolution in Kate's office." She padded away from the fireplace back down the hall. He watched her retreat for a moment before following.

Kate's office was cluttered with papers and small tokens and artifacts here and there, but with a certain order to the chaos. Charlie sat in front of a large computer monitor, shaking the computer mouse awake.

"I had to make her get a larger monitor," she said. "Her old one was awful."

"Yeah, sounds like her," he replied, glancing around the room. "Usin' things up to and beyond the point of use."

"Exactly," Charlie agreed, double clicking a file on the desktop. "Here's the picture Dr. DeLeon sent me."

The picture popped up on the large screen, in full color and high definition. The quality was miles better than the printout she had brought to Clancy's. He crouched down next to the desk and immediately pointed at the woman in the top left corner, whose eyes looked devoid of any emotion whatsoever. "Now _that _is Dr. Kate Corrigan. One hundred percent."

She nodded, drawing in a deep breath. "So now what?"

"Now, I wait until they call me out to Jakarta for the exorcism, which I can promise you they will. I'll tell Manning about Katie. They're decent enough friends that he'll be equally as worried. And whether it's now or three months from now, we're gonna bring her home." He stood up, cracking his back.

"Thank you. I know you will," she smiled in relief, standing up. "Now, I need a drink."


	4. Chapter 4

_Oh goodness! I'm pretty late at updating from when I said I would, and for that, I apologize! Between full-time work, my boyfriend, full-time school, and the gym, I've had barely any time so far this year to really devote to getting back into writing. But the good news is that I dropped my Monday class, so all updates will probably be posted Mondays. Or, y'know, whenever. :-) No specific music listings for this chapter, aside from Quintette du Hot Club de France, Django Reinhardt's group, which is mentioned in the actual chapter. Big shoutout to ALL the reviewers/ followers! Your reviews mean a lot to me. One of these days I'll have enough time to sit down and read your stories too, and return the favor of a sweet review! –S.A._

-o-

"Alright, let's see, here..."

He'd followed her to the kitchen, where she'd proceeded to fling open the pantry to reveal a wide array of liquor bottles. He whistled. "Shit, you weren't kiddin' when you said 'fully stocked bar', were you?"

"Nope. Here," she offered out an unopened bottle of Macallan 15 year single malt.

"Don't mind if I do," he mused, taking the bottle. "Never had it before."

"It's good. And I say that as someone who detests scotch."

"Alright then, what's your poison, then?"

"Wine, usually. Bourbon, if we're talking spirits, which we are," she said, grabbing two bottles out of the cabinet before setting about cutting slices of orange, muddling them with a bit of sugar in the bottom of a glass with a shake of something else before pouring the brown bourbon over ice and a cherry.

"And what is it you're making?" He asked, uncapping the scotch.

"Old-fashioned," she replied, handing him an empty glass. "Double. Wanna taste?"

She held out her own glass to him, brimming with the decorated drink.

He considered it, before taking it and sipping. "Damn good," he agreed. "You make a mean cocktail."

"Hey, thanks. I bartended my way through most of college, just up until a few months ago. I had enough saved up that I was able to take a while off so I could finish up my thesis, try and get an internship, et cetera. Also only made possible by Aunt Kate's offer to let me live here free of charge." She pushed off from the counter, taking her drink in hand and motioning for him to follow her back to the living room.

She unceremoniously plopped down on the L-shaped couch, placing her drink on a pile of papers on the coffee table. He didn't fail to notice that somewhere between the kitchen and the living room, half of it had disappeared.

"So what's your paper about?" he asked, standing momentarily before sitting on the loveseat.

"Uhhh. It's about ancient forms of documentation and written language. It's almost done, I've been in the school library almost every day that I've been here this summer… I'm just so reluctant to turn it in and petition to graduate, given that I haven't landed an internship yet."

Hellboy frowned, considering the peaty goodness of the scotch in his glass. "Is that required or something?"

"No, but it would be helpful in getting a real, grown-up job one day," she replied, reaching for a remote on the side table. "Unfortunately, I didn't get in with any of the places I submitted to. Even though only _one_ of them really mattered, anyway."

"Oh yeah? And what's that."

"Um." She cleared her throat, quietly muffling her reply to his question into her arm.

"I'm sorry, say again?" he laughed, downing his scotch.

She sighed, hitting a button on the remote, bringing Django Reinhardt softly to life on a concealed speaker. "Fine… The BPRD."

He raised his brow "_You_ wanna work at The Bureau? _Why_?"

She threw him a derisive look over the top of her glass. "Why _wouldn't_ I? They actually pay their interns, it's close to home, and it's right in my field. I'm a researcher. The 'R' in BPRD stands for research, does it not?"

He laughed again. "Yeah, but… I don't know who you've been talking to, but as their top agent, I can pretty much tell you that they'll pay you in peanuts. _Especially_ as a grunt."

She rolled her eyes. "The head of the BPRD intern program, Eric Randall, came into my lecture hall last semester and gave my class a presentation on the program. I honestly don't care about the money, when it comes down to it. Besides, it would have been the perfect opportunity to be there to help find Aunt Kate. If I had the name of the Bureau backing me, there'd be no way those damned archaeologists would have avoided my calls the way they did."

He nodded. "Ah, so _that's_ what Randall does. Always wondered what that self-important pain in the ass was good for. But I'm not exactly following how you were overlooked. There's no way they'd miss an opportunity to employ the niece of the beloved and famous Dr. Corrigan."

She shrugged. "I could never play that particular card in good conscience. I've been shafted by other people relying on nepotism before, and it's not pleasant. Besides, we don't share a last name, so it's not like they'd know, anyway. Agent Randall told me that he and Agent Manning loved my application, that I've got real promise, but they had to give priority to people who have done the internship in previous years, so I'm guessing the slots filled pretty quickly. It kinda stung. I would've rather just been flat-out rejected than told that I _just_ missed the cut. He said if one of the interns opts out, I'm first in line, but let's be real, like _that_'ll ever happen."

She looked slightly defeated, and downed the remainder of her drink. "Want another?" she asked, getting up, grabbing his glass without waiting for an answer.

"Thanks," he answered as she popped into the kitchen. He shrugged out of his duster in the warm room, taking a moment to let the soft jazz guitar soak in. Even though the evening had begun as technically part of the job, it felt like he was just spending time with a friend (who wasn't Abe) on a rare night off. She had certainly taken to him quickly like a duck to water, which was something he generally had to work toward when meeting new people. And he wasn't sure if it was just the fact that she reminded him so much of Katie when she was younger, with her plucky persistence and quick wit, but he immediately welcomed her presence, as well.

The act of simply "hanging out" wasn't something he was used to, the _normality_ of it. _If Charlie_ is "_normal"_, he thought. He was suddenly grabbed by a random memory of Liz, glowing orange in a literal flame of rage. She'd often fly into such angry fits and balls of fire when confronted with his smartassery, especially toward the end of the relationship when every little thing put her on edge. His current repartee with Charlie was comfortable, but he found himself hoping she didn't have any kinetic abilities, or otherwise.

"Hey, uh, Charlie?" He called to the other room, finding courage from the drinks coursing through his system.

"Yyyyeah?"

"You don't have any… supernatural abilities or anything like that... do you?"

He heard a subtle laugh from the kitchen. She returned, with both drinks, and the bottle of scotch tucked under her arm.

"...Because I know you'll need more," she said matter-of-factly, setting the bottle down in front of him, as well as his glass. "Why do you ask?"

"It's a fairly regulatory question I need to ask people from time to time in my line of work," he lied.

"Well, _since_ you asked," she began, looking at him pointedly. He sat forward, waiting for her sighed-out answer. "I _do_ have a mild case of S.L.I."

"S.L.I., what's… What is it?"

She stared very intently at him, looking as if she was about to divulge a huge secret. "...Street Light Interference."

She began cracking up immediately at the confused look on his face. "You know, it's that thing of when you drive or walk under a streetlight, and the light goes off, or on, as soon as you do. It's totally a thing! Someone wrote a book about it. But yeah, no, that's... pretty much it. No discernible talents outside of that."

"Anyone ever tell you you're a smartass?" he asked, failing to hold back a chuckle.

She slumped down on the couch on her back, propped up by pillows. "Only everybody, all the time."

He poured a few fingers of scotch into the glass, examining the bottle. "Hey, thanks for this. This really is great."

"I knew I'd eventually find someone who could appreciate it," she smiled.

They spent the next half hour with their drinks discussing some recently-discovered ancient writings found on a cave in Canada.

"I promise you, they weren't foretelling any prophecy," he argued, still able to see straight.

"Yeah, but did you see that star-shaped thingy in the middle of the text? That's a future-sign, for sure," she argued adamantly. Not that she was slurring her words, but the liquor had certainly loosened her sensibilities, and apparently her word choices, as well.

"Future-sign? Wow, they've really taught you the hard-hitting technical terms in grad school," he replied, tone heavy with sarcasm. "And 'star-shaped thingy'? Such a way with words."

"Hey, just because _you_ probably understand it through some divine measure doesn't mean you can ma-"

A knock came quickly on the front door, puncturing her words. She immediately seemed alert, then realization dawned.

"_Shit_. I forgot Stuart was coming over," she loudly whispered.

"Charlie? I know you're in there," came a singsong voice from outside.

"I do _not_ want to handle this right now," she shook her head, sighing with her eyes closed. "At least _you're_ here, so he can't be a total dick to me. Who am I kidding, that's not gonna stop him."

She sighed, dragging herself off the couch and slumping toward the front door. In a moment of inspiration, Hellboy got up and followed her. She was just about to reach for the doorknob, when he grabbed her shoulders from behind and quickly guided her into the kitchen. "Hold up, there."

"What's- what are you up to?" She quietly asked as he backed her up to the counter. narrowing her brow at him.

"I'm getting you your water heater fixed," he began. "_And_ I'm getting Mr. Nice Guy out there off your back for a while."

"And how are you gonna do that, exactly?" She looked afraid to find out.

"Do you trust me?"

"Charlie…" came Stuart's voice from the other side of the front door.

"That's a loaded question if I've ever heard-"

"You need a 'boyfriend', right?"

A look of realization dawned on her face, eyes wide as she slowly nodded.

"...Just stay in here and be quiet. Oh, and..." Her eyes widened more, if it was possible, as the tall demon in front of her suddenly peeled his shirt off over his head, revealing his broad, red upper body in the dim light of the kitchen. It took all his effort to not laugh as her wide eyes helplessly roamed over the hard surfaces of his shoulders, down his chest and abs, catching herself and abruptly finding the ceiling to be very interesting.

"...hold this, please," he finished. He placed his black shirt in her dumbfoundedly outstretched hands. He looked pointedly at her, turning right out of the kitchen, seamlessly pulling the front door open.

A young man no older than thirty with short, curly black hair and icy blue eyes stood on the other side of the door, crossing his arms and looking out across the lawn. When he heard the door crack, he turned immediately. "There you are, Charlie, I- _Oh_."

Hellboy stood shirtless in the door, towering mercilessly over the slight man by almost a foot. He smiled easily, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Can I help you?"

"You're… Hellboy," Stuart managed lamely, awestruck by the legend in front of him.

"I am," he answered back. "And you must be Stuart, the _landlord_."

"Yeah… I'm actually looking for Charlotte. To discuss her water heater situation. I take it you're a... friend?" Stuart asked, slightly suspicious.

He leaned against the doorjamb, holding back a shiver at the chilly air from outside. "Yeah, I'm her _friend_, alright… Listen, Charlie's a little bit tied up right now…"

He swore he heard an almost inaudible gasp come from the kitchen.

"...So if you wanna come back sometime tomorrow, I'm sure she won't be quite so… busy with other things by then."

Hellboy watched as Stuart's mouth screwed up in frustration, and the space between his brows twitched.

"Oh, and hey," he continued, nearly buckling Stuart's knees with a quick clap on the shoulder. "Thanks so much in advance for getting that water heater fixed, buddy. Tried taking a shower earlier, but it was just too damn cold. Oh well. Guess there's other ways to keep warm, am I right, Stuey?"

Stuart opened his mouth to retort, before reconsidering. He breathed angrily through his nose before finally conceding. "I'll send the repair guy over tomorrow."

"Appreciate it. Thanks."

He all but slammed the door right in Stuart's pallid face. "That was fun," he shrugged.

He turned, peeking his head around the corner into the kitchen to see Charlie, one hand clutching his shirt to her chest, the other secured firmly over her mouth. She stood frozen, her unreadable eyes fixed on his.

"Did I really just hear you tell him that i was… _tied up_?" She blinked, lowering her hand.

"Shit, did I really say that?"

She nodded, her lips disappeared in a thin line as he momentarily worried that he had gone way, way too far with Stuart. He was about to launch into a large apology and accept that he'd managed to undo their whole friendship in one go, when a grin creeped onto her face.

"I gotta hand it to you... That was pretty brilliant," she laughed. "I'm kinda jealous I didn't come up with it."

"You're... not mad?"

She shook her head. "A little surprised at first, I guess… But definitely not mad. He's had it coming for a long time. _Tying me up_... Makes me sound like I'm some sort of sexual deviant."

"Well, if he doesn't think you're one for _that_, he certainly thinks you're one for having a demon as a boyfriend."

She laughed, turning slightly pink. "Thanks, I owe you for that. For everything."

"Well, glad I could help," he smiled. "Hey, could you direct me to the restroom?"

"Yeah, it's uh, down the hall, last door on the left."

As he left the kitchen for the back of the house, she exhaled a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding in. She felt disoriented, as if within a matter of a few hours, her whole life had been upended. Hellboy fascinated her, before as a public figure, and now as a person. She'd walked into Clancy's originally expecting to meet just some old plainclothes agent Kate might have known through the Bureau from years past, but had been more than a little shocked initially to see _him_, live and in person, having a confrontation with the troll woman. He'd been previously elusive to her; all her school friends had seen him around town at one point or another, and she'd always experienced trace amounts of jealousy at the stories about their Hellboy interactions and sightings. And Aunt Kate would always _hint _at him, but never told stories, or anything, even with Charlie's occasional prying.

...Now here he was, in all his red, muscle-bound glory, sharing drinks and pretending to be her boyfriend in order to scare the landlord straight. Not exactly a typical Saturday evening.

_Do you trust me? _he'd asked. She _did _trust him, and had to in order to put all of her faith in him to bring Kate back from wherever she'd vanished to. She even trusted him enough to fight the Stuart battle for her, something she would never have asked anyone to do. Something about him made her feel both safe, and wildly vulnerable at the same time.

She started back toward the living room, resuming her seat and placing his shirt down next to her. After a moment, she picked it back up to steal a quick sniff out of curiosity. It smelled like freshly-baked cookies, pine trees, sandalwood, and slightly of roasted peanuts. The strange combination matched him perfectly.

The sound of him reapproaching back down the hall made her immediately drop the shirt next to her. She crossed her arms over herself, smiling as he re-entered.

"Hey," she sighed casually.

"Hey, yourself," he answered, resuming his seat.

"Here's your shirt, by the way." She tossed it to him across the room.

"Thanks," he replied, throwing it behind him on top of his duster.

"You're not... Cold?" She asked.

"Nah," he shrugged, glancing at her. "Unless this makes you uncomfortable."

She shook her head. "Doesn't really matter to me."

"Great. I'm not really a fan of wearing shirts unless I have to."

"Yeah, I can see why," she said quietly under her breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothin'," she shrugged.

"Uh huh," he smirked. "Kinda hard to find a shirt that fits, anyway, with _this_," he said, raising his right hand.

"That... makes sense," she nodded, staring into the bottom of her empty glass. "I should probably stop drinking, but the truth is, part of me wants one more, because between the stress from Kate, dealing with Stuart, and this stupid internship nonsense, I haven't really been this happy or relaxed in a while."

"Yeah, I was going to say. You sounded pretty tightly-wound on that voicemail you left me today," he began. "I had been expecting you to be a basket case full of neuroses."

She grimaced. "Yeah, that. Sorry, but I hate the phone. _Especially_ leaving messages. I really fumble over myself trying to get out all the details in such a limited amount of time."

"I prefer email, myself," he mused, draining his scotch. "Or just face to face, really. Though that's kinda hard when people stare at you like you're some kind of novelty or somethin'."

"Well, I'm sure they learn pretty quickly," she offered, holding out the bottle of scotch.

"I think I've hit my scotch limit," he said waving his hand, setting his glass on the coffee table. "Got any beer?"

"Yeah, in the fridge," she made to get up.

"I got it," he said, motioning for her to sit back. He grabbed her glass as well. "Old-fashioned, right?"

"Really? Thanks!"

She watched as his shirtless form retreated to the kitchen, red tail swinging behind him. Her reasonable side argued that one more drink would push her into dangerously messy territory, as if she weren't already messy and talkative from the first few drinks, but she ignored it in favor of the promise that the next would be her last. Besides, she argued with herself, when was the last time she'd been able to actually enjoy a drink with a friend, new or old? It had been far too long.

Hellboy returned with a beer under his arm, gingerly setting her drink in front of her before falling back on the couch behind him. Charlie picked her drink up, inspecting it.

"What? What's wrong?"

"Where's the orange slice? The cherry?" She asked. She took a sip, laughing. "This is just bourbon in a glass with some ice!"

"Alright, so I forgot how to make an old-fashioned. Sue me. You don't look too terribly torn up about it," he countered, picking up the longneck bottle of beer.

"I suppose I'll survive," she feigned annoyance, taking another sip.

He quickly opened the crown cap on the beer with his stone hand, causing the cap to fold in half and fall to the ground. He looked up to see Charlie staring at his hand, her eyebrows knit together in amazement.

"It's handy for some things," he said, bringing her out of her trance. "Opening beers, portals to Hell, punching monsters in the face, all sorts of useful shit."

She blushed again, a common occurrence for the evening. "Oh, jeez. I am _so_ sorry. _Again_. I honestly don't mean to stare."

"Ehh, I didn't even think you really were," he began. "It's not like you do it from a prejudiced place, which is what _really_ bugs me. I know some people can't help it though.

"Besides, I think I spent the whole time at the bar staring at _you_, trying to gauge your reaction at being interrogated by someone like _me_," he admitted.

"Really? I hadn't even noticed. It was so damn dark in there, i'm surprised you could see me. Even with those adorable glasses you had on," she teased.

He pointed his finger at her. "Hey. Watch it. I'm an old man. Sometimes my eyes need a rest. Besides, they're just non-prescription readers."

Charlie smiled, draining the bourbon. "So, now that you've caught me staring... permission to ask a stupid and probably obvious question?"

"Fire away."

"What does it... feel like?"

He looked at her skeptically. "Feels like stone."

"No, I know, I mean, what does it feel like to _you_? Sensation-wise? Does it feel pain?"

He wiggled the fingers of the hand, regarding it as if he was just noticing it for the first time. "Can't really feel much of anything. Kinda numb. It's a lot stronger and one hell of a lot older than I am. Wanna feel?"

"Really?" She blinked.

"Sure, c'mere."

Charlie got up and placed herself next to him on the adjacent loveseat. He offered out his right hand, which she hesitantly touched, fascinated, with both hands.

"That is _crazy_," she said, not able to help a smile from lighting up her face.

"Yeah, kinda heavy, too." He let his arm go limp in her hands, which she almost dropped with a surprised laugh.

"Shit! _'Kinda_'? It's like a pile of bricks!" His arm returned to its usual rigidity as she continued to trace her hands over the ridges and markings, down his fingers. "So you really can't feel this?

He closed his eyes, drawing in a breath. Though it was true he had limited feeling in the hand, her comforting ministrations sent an involuntary shiver down his spine. It had been longer than he'd care to admit since he'd been touched by a woman, even platonically by a friend, like this. His eyes flew open.

"Nah," he lied, looking at her. She was intently examining the palm of his right hand. She looked up, half-smiling.

"Hey. Thanks for putting up with my drunken curiosity."

"Anytime," he nodded slowly, looking down back at her. "Hey, just out of curiosity… did Katie ever talk about me? To you, or anyone?"

Charlie blushed a bit, looking away. "Not _exactly_. I think she was still married to the idea that you were someone to be protected from society, even after you came out into the public eye. Funny how that is, protecting the protector. I always thought so. Anyway," she continued. "I won't lie… I've asked her about the Bureau before, and about… _you_ a lot. Because I knew she knew you, and of course, I was curious. Her answer always killed me, though. And it was always the same."

He regarded Charlie with curious eyes. "Which was...?"

Charlie shook her head smiling, lost in some memory that he could almost see was floating just at the surface of her mind. "She always said 'Charlie, I'd tell you, but you wouldn't believe me. And you won't until you work for the Bureau one day, which you _will_.' ...And I guess I've let that color my career ambitions in the past few years since she's been telling me that. I let it affect my major, and every aspect of my life, all because ever since I was little, I've wanted to grow up and be just like her."

"I think she'd be flattered to hear that," Hellboy said quietly.

"I'd love to tell her," Charlie answered. "And I can't wait to have her back, so I can.

"Speaking of which, I now _completely_ understand why she listed you as her emergency contact. You live up to the hype, you know," she finished.

"Well, now _I'm_ the flattered one."

The hour grew thin, the drinks were empty, the music had come to an end, and before he knew it, Charlie was visibly nodding off directly beside him. Taking it as his sign to leave, he stood slowly, not wanting to jostle her petite form too much. She jerked awake at his movements anyway, instantly at half-attention.

"Alright, Kiddo. I'll be in touch. Tomorrow, probably," he murmurred, his voice a sword through the silence.

"You're leaving?" she asked, half-asleep, standing beside him as he shrugged his coat on.

"Yeah, I've gotta rest up for tomorrow. Anticipating a long plane ride somewhere in my near future," he answered.

"You can stay, you know," she suggested. "If you don't wanna walk, that is."

"Thank you, Charlie, but quick metabolism's already got me sobered up. Plus, the fresh air'll do me some good. But _you_ should get some sleep. You seem like you're ready to drift right off." He turned to her, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"I'll walk you out," she said, smiling.

They said their goodbyes at the door, Charlie thanking him once more, pulling him in for a warm embrace of thanks. She watched sleepily as Hellboy set off toward the park, disappearing into the night. She closed the door behind him, clicking the lock into place. She stumbled back through the living room to flip off the lights, when out of the corner of her eye, she spotted his abandoned black shirt on the floor. She picked it up and folded it, a satisfied smile on her face before placing it on the edge of the loveseat and finally making her way down the hall to her warm and waiting bed.


	5. Chapter 5

_Hey readers! Just wanted to take a quick second to give a big thank you to everyone who has faved/followed/reviewed! It means a LOT to me and motivates me to keep writing, that's for sure. Here's a super long chapter for you guys. FUN FACT: I wrote most of this at work on my phone in google docs! Haha. Thank you all so much again! -S.A_.

-o-

The next thing Charlie knew, she was awake. The grey light of the morning crept I through the window, and the house was still with silence. It was the first night in a week or so that she'd actually managed to sleep all the way through until morning without an awful nightmare ripping her from sleep, only to slip away into the recesses of her mind, promptly forgotten. She did a quick assessment of her well-being, realizing that for the amount of alcohol she'd consumed the night before, she felt curiously normal, without even a trace of a hangover, aside from her stomach's desperate appeal for coffee and a large breakfast.

The evening had been surreal, looking back at it. A little blurry toward the end, and she prayed that she hadn't said anything too overly foot-in-mouth to Hellboy. Her heart quickened at the thought of his name... _It really happened, right? I didn't imagine the whole crazy, insane thing?_

She reluctantly left the warm comfort of her bed and padded into the living room, just to be certain. The black shirt was still sitting there on the arm of the loveseat, exactly where she'd left it. She tried to hold back a laugh, but a small one escaped anyway and it echoed in the corners of the room.

She contemplated putting decent clothing on and venturing out to the cafe around the corner for coffee, but opted instead to brew her own, and cook a breakfast of poached eggs on toast, remaining in her comfortable clothes for a bit longer.

Indulging in a bit of laziness, she brought her plate and coffee out to the couch, pulling a blanket over her and opening her laptop. Her years as a student in the Anthro department had fitted her with an over-curiosity that bordered on nosiness. Her appetite for information was sometimes nearly insatiable. If something interested her, she would research it, often beyond appropriate borders, making analyses on every small thing until she was satisfied.

She pulled up the search engine on the computer, the blinking cursor in the entry field almost daring her to enter the keywords. She took a large gulp of revitalizing coffee, securing her messy hair in a knot on top of her head. After a moment's hesitation, she typed in "Hellboy History", pressing enter. The search returned several thousand pages, and she scrolled through the results until she found a page that looked legitimate.

Not a lot of information was offered about his youth, or even the majority of his career with the Bureau, but there were several pages with inferences about his life history based on his short stint in the public eye. Nothing she hadn't really heard through word of mouth before. She flitted from page to page, feeling a small pang of guilt in her gut. How would he feel about her resorting to _Googling_ him in order to learn more? She screwed up her mouth, about to close the browser tab, when a search result caught her eye: _NEWS:Keystone East Coast Hero Dumped By Main Squeeze At Gala. _When the link came up expired on the news website, she heaved a frustrated sigh.

_I can't believe I'm doing this…_

She returned to the search engine window, this time typing in "Hellboy Dating", and hitting return. The results only turned up in the few hundreds, but she almost immediately found a cached database with the information she'd wanted.

The news piece was dated from five years previous, and included a picture of Hellboy having an intense discussion outdoors with a scowling brunette woman in all black and a beret. The picture looked like it had been taken with a telephoto lens from far away, and definitely seemed to be an intrusion on the arguing couple's privacy. The article, however, detailed how Hellboy -now publicly-known for nearly a year at the time the article had been published- and Elizabeth Sherman, his thirty-two year old girlfriend at the time, had been at a charity gala at the New York museum, when they'd gotten into a very public argument regarding Ms. Sherman's level of unhappiness in the relationship. The argument soon became extremely "heated" (an uncalled-for joke on the journalist's part, in Charlie's opinion), with Ms. Sherman experiencing a pyrokinetic episode of rage, bursting into flames. Luckily, nobody had been injured, and no artifacts destroyed, though several tablecloths had been singed. An eyewitness reported seeing the eventually-extinguished Ms. Sherman yell "We're through," at the unbelieving demon before storming off in front of a small crowd of onlookers outside the venue.

The article went on to detail a small history of Hellboy's life since his coming out, and of Elizabeth Sherman's childhood trauma that led to her becoming a ward of the Bureau at a young age.

Charlie clicked the page closed, sighing. She finished a piece of toast, vaguely remembering having heard the news story years ago around the time she'd began college, but hadn't paid attention at the time. Now that Hellboy was a relatively close subject of interest to her, given the events of the previous night, she felt compelled to dig into the past of his ex, as well.

Feeling as if she was already karmically in too deep, so _why the hell not_, she opened another tab, typing in "Elizabeth Sherman Pyrokinetic"

All the results parroted the article she'd read in terms of information regarding Elizabeth Sherman from childhood all the way up to her and Hellboy's breakup and her subsequent disappearance from the public, although one conspiracy blogger claimed to have seen Ms. Sherman in Martha's Vineyard, working at a counseling center for troubled youth.

Feeling as if she'd officially gone too far, she immediately wiped the search history and closed the computer. At that very moment, her phone chirped with a text on the table beside her. She reached over her shoulder, picking the phone up. Her stomach twisted in a guilty knot as she saw it was from Hellboy, as if he'd known she'd been snooping into his life on the internet.

_You alive?_

She rolled her eyes, smiling as she typed back.

_surprisingly. you?_

A few moments later…

_Never better. I'm headed to my office right now. I'll call you later today with the details with Jakarta, is that alright?_

_of course_, she replied, already anxious to hear from him. A shower sounded nice, but since the water wouldn't be fixed until later (_hopefully_, she thought), it would have to happen elsewhere. Figuring that there was little left to do with the day except be productive, she went to her room to pull on her workout clothes to sweat out whatever alcohol was left in her system on the treadmill, followed by a shower at the gym.

She locked the front door behind her as she skipped down the front steps out to her car, when her optimistic morning mood was suddenly dampened.

"Charlie! Hey, Charlie!"

_Oh, God_, she couldn't help but roll her eyes as Stuart came running across the street to catch her.

"Hi, Stuart," she began, offering bare-minimum politeness. "What's up?"

"Hey, Charlie," he began, running his hand through his black curls. "...Going to the gym?"

"Yep," she said curtly, not pausing as she opened the passenger door and threw her gym bag in. She slammed the door, walking around the front of the car to get into the driver's seat.

"Can I- talk to you for a second?" he asked, almost timidly.

She sighed, crossing her arms. It was generally not in her nature to be rude, but given the circumstances, she forgave herself. "Alright, what?"

"I just… want to apologize for how I've been treating you," he managed lamely. "It's unfair to you that I've been acting the way I have. You don't deserve it-"

"You're right; I don't," she interjected.

"It's just that… you're so _pretty_, and-"

"Ugh," she retorted, shaking her head. "Please don't."

He looked defeated. "Sorry. Look, I don't know if you're really dating that... _Hellboy_ or not, but… I guess I just- It doesn't matter. I just wanted to let you know that the maintenance guy won't be here until tomorrow."

"Well... thank you," she made to get into the driver's seat. "And, apology accepted. But Stuart, next time you like someone, try not to be such an asshole if you don't get your way, alright? Because you aren't a bad-looking guy, and after a few months of just being friends, who knows, _maybe_ I would have said yes."

"Does that mean there's still-"

"Not even a _snowball's_ chance," she grimaced, raising her brows. "'Bye, Stuart."

He gave an accepting nod, waving slightly as she got in the car, pulling away.

-o-

By the time he'd returned home the previous night from Charlie's, it had been after one a.m., and Hellboy had been nearly one hundred percent sobered up. His stomach had called out for food, but the need for sleep trumped all other emotions at that moment. He crashed out on his bed face-down almost immediately, barely managing to fully kick off his boots and not even bothering to strip off his pants.

By the time morning rolled around, he was rattled out of a deep sleep by the sound of his phone. He groaned into the pillow, lifting his hand toward the direction of the incessant jangling ringtone, coupled with the almost angry buzz of the vibrate mode against his nightstand. Thinking maybe it was Charlie, he felt around until his hand found the phone, and lifted his head to check the caller ID, which read simply, BLUE.

"Abe," he managed cloudily, lifting the phone to his ear.

"_There_ you are," came Abe's voice, sounding as if he'd been wide awake for hours. "This is the third time I've tried to get ahold of you this morning."

"Yeah… Had a long night. What time is it now?"

"Seven," Abe's conversational tone only served to make him more annoyed. "Manning's called an emergency meeting here at 0800 hours. Will you be here by then?"

"Don't think I've got much of a choice, now do I?" he exhaled, trying to crack his spine. A warm spot on his back suddenly stirred, and something began kneading him with small, sharp points. Apparently Shortstack had made his back into a sleeping place sometime during the night, and was proclaiming his prickly appreciation with a massage.

He reached his hand behind his back, trying to shoo the sock-footed tabby away. He finally succeeded (not without being told off with an indignant "mrrow!" first), and rolled off the bed, finding himself on mostly solid footing. Merely as a formality, he held the receiver against his ear as Abe continued talking. In lieu of listening, he inwardly wondered why, even though he'd sobered up hours ago, he was having such trouble rousing himself. The only conclusion he could come to is that he needed a damn vacation.

"Red? Are you listening?" Abe questioned, borderline annoyed.

"...Sorry, what were you saying, Abe?"

"I asked you how your meeting with Charlotte went?"

"You mean Charlie? It was actually… Uh, it went well. I mean, given the circumstances," he added. "Katie's definitely missing. Somewhere in Jakarta, if the sources are still correct."

He made his way to the kitchen, shuffling things about the counter, attempting to brew an at least decent cup of coffee before he left his house in search of food at the Bureau prior to the impending meeting. He continued to give Abe a rundown of the specifics of Kate's disappearance, including DeLeon's information regarding the cursed graves in Jakarta, which he had a sneaking suspicion Manning's emergency meeting would address directly.

"So, what's she like?" asked Abe, curiosity piqued. "_Charlie_, that is? Is she like Kate at all?"

"She's great. You'd really get along great with her, I bet. She said she applied for an internship at the Bureau, but all the spaces filled up. Randall told her she's next on the list. I gotta find some way to convince Manning to get her on the team; how _that's_ gonna happen, I don't know. But I feel like it's important."

"Well, it would certainly be helpful to have a research assistant around the library," Abe mused. "And having someone from the same stock as Kate would be a benefit to us… I only ask because I happened across Kate's file last night…"

"'Happened' my foot; You deliberately sought out her file, and you and I both know it."

He could almost hear Abe shrug over the phone. "I wanted more information after our call. Anyway, I came across a picture of Charlie as a young girl in Kate's file, and it seemed as if she bears a slight resemblance to Kate... is that still true?"

"Uh, I guess," he began hesitantly, not sure if it would be right to discuss Charlie's physical appearance with his best friend. "She's... on the shorter side too, kinda blondish, darker than Katie's hair though… Nice, uh… figure? I guess is the polite way to put it… I mean… She's not bad to look at…"

"So, what you're telling me, is that you found her to be attractive?"

"Stop putting words in my mouth, guy," he warned darkly, glad Abe wasn't there in person to evaluate the guilt he could feel in his face. _She _is _cute, no harm in thinking that_, he assured himself inwardly, pouring the brown, steaming coffee into a waiting mug on the counter, breathing in its' nutty goodness. "...And quit being so goddamn nosy, while you're at it."

"Not being nosy, just... analytical. Your attempt at subtlety is mediocre at best. I've said it before and I'll say it again, Red… you're an easy one to figure out."

"Well, figure _this_ one out then, smart guy… She's a friend, _end of story._ As for her being like Katie, I'll leave that up to you to decide when you meet her for yourself. Which you _will_, when I succeed at bringing her onto the team."

"Suit yourself, Red," countered his blue partner, sounding skeptical. "And I'll see you here in an hour for the meeting in the conference room. Don't forget."

"Yeah," he answered, ending the call. _Leave it to Blue to stick his gills into everything they don't belong in, thinking he can get inside my head_, he thought, sitting back to enjoy the oncoming buzz from the life-giving coffee for a few moments before he had to depart across the campus.

He flipped his phone over in his palm, before opening a blank message to Charlie. He ruminated on how exactly to start off a message to her, opting for the simple question of wondering if she'd made it through the night without drunken incident. He pressed send before realizing that it was only around seven fifteen, and most normal people were usually still asleep during such a time on a sunday. He instantly regretted it until she'd sent a response immediately without hesitation. He promised he'd call her later with details on the impending meeting, before draining the remainder of his coffee, changing clothes, and heading off to the Bureau in search of sustenance en masse.

-o-

For being a sunday, there were already a fair amount of people walking the halls of the Bureau by the time he had showed up, still too early to head to the conference room. He made a beeline into the large dining hall, nearly empty save for a few early morning employees conversing at a table.

A loud clatter sounded from through the door to the kitchen, and a young agent came cowering out the door, followed by a loud hurling of spiteful Russian. "Sorry, Olga, sorry!" The agent said, grabbing a piece of fruit from the buffet line before joining his wide-eyed peers in the corner.

_Oops, someone complained again..._

A small, angry-looking old woman poked her head out from the kitchen, glowering in the agent's general direction as he sheepishly peeled his banana.

Olga, the sole member of the weekend kitchen staff, spent nearly every weekend out of the year preparing meals for any unlucky agent who might have been stranded overnight at the Bureau's main campus doing research for a mission or project on a saturday or sunday. She'd come out of retirement many years before, specifically as a favor to the former Bureau director, to work strictly on weekends, and was still plugging away nearly twenty years after the fact.

A stern woman with a low tolerance for complaints, she scared most agents with her coarse nature and random outbursts of Russian. She had a soft spot for Hellboy, however. He figured it was due in part to the fact that he spoke fluent Russian, not to mention that he always flattered her on her less-than-stellar cooking abilities.

While she proved to be at least proficient in cooking the usual breakfast items, she always managed to include at least one strange-looking Russian dish at every meal. He gazed into a pot filled with purplish-looking goop, figured he'd play it safe on the buffet line this morning, loading up a large plate of scrambled eggs, burnt bacon, and four pieces of toast.

"Red Monkey, good morning," she grumbled in Russian, exiting the kitchen to stand by the buffet. "Will you try the borscht today?"

"A little early for borchst, Olga, but maybe later," he replied, giving her a tight smile before again looking again into the bubbling vat.

"I think you would like. Is not for weak. It will put hair on chest," she warned, now in English.

"Yeah, well, let me know when you make something that puts hair _on head_, we'll talk then, alright?"

She hobbled away smiling, muttering a prayer under her breath as she went.

He grabbed a spot at a table to quickly polish off the food, which was abnormally good this morning, despite the over-crispy bacon. He was down to his last few bites, when none other than Tom Manning himself slid in the seat directly across from him with a tray of food, including a bowl of the purple sludge.

"Talked you into the borscht, I see," Hellboy remarked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, well, you know me, can't resist a good guilt trip from Olga first thing in the morning. Scary, that woman," Manning began conversationally, starting on his eggs. "And how are you, Red?"

"Oh, you know me, Tom. Livin' the dream, one day at a time." He pushed his empty plate away, stretching. "Can't wait for your meeting that I didn't find out about until twenty minutes ago. Good thing I already know what it's about..."

"Well, do tell, then," Manning countered skeptically, peering at him from over his glasses.

"With pleasure," he cracked the knuckles on his left hand. "You're going to assign a team to fly out to Jakarta to perform an exorcism on some cursed graves. And it'll be unsurprisingly led by yours truly, of course."

"...I don't know _why_ it surprises me that you already know, but it _does_," Manning replied testily. "We just received that intel yesterday; How the hell is it that you know that? Did you talk to Phil DeLeon?"

"I _never_ reveal my sources," he grinned toothily. "Unless you make it worth my while. I've got a request for you."

"Hellboy-"

"Tom, it's a rare instance that I ask you for information or a favor. I think you owe me the courtesy to at least hear me out."

Manning nodded, knowing it was the truth. "Alright, fair enough."

"This is gonna seem weird, but...I need a research intern, can you help me with that?"

Manning blinked, confused. "An… intern? But you've never requested additional assistance for research before. Why now? I mean, I _suppose_ I can have Agent Randall assign one of the second years we have coming on in two and a half weeks to you, _if_ he can spare one-"

"I'm not interested in a second year intern."

"Well, Red, that's about all we have available," Manning gave a small shrug, gingerly stirring the uneaten borscht with his spoon. "The program is highly impacted, and we had limited space this go-around, so we were only able to bring the ones with highest priority back. Unless you mean bringing over a full-time researcher from a different sector, in which case, that would be nearly impossible. My hands are tied on that."

"Not interested in _that_, either," he said, trying not to become frustrated at Manning's apparently eager attempt to brush his request off. "I have a specific person in mind."

Manning's eyes immediately flew to his. "And that is…?"

"Kate Corrigan's niece."

Manning gave a hearty chuckle, shaking his head. "Well, that's a nice enough gesture, and I've no doubt that brightness runs in that family's gene pool, but just because _Kate's niece_ needs an after-school job doesn't meet our criteria for internships, Hellboy. What you're talking about is textbook _nepotism_, plain and simple."

"Funny you mention the word _nepotism_, boss, because so did _Charlotte_," he emphasized the name, hoping it would jog Manning's memory. "Specifically. I'm sure you'd agree that she certainly didn't rely on nepotism when she submitted her application to the program and received high praise from not only Randall, but _you_, as well…"

He watched as Manning put the pieces together. "Charlotte… _Adler_? _That's_ Kate's niece?"

He nodded. _Finally, we're getting somewhere…_

"Incredible. You know, after I reviewed her application with Randall, I felt awful that we couldn't bring her on due to limited slots," He said with amazement in his tone. He pushed his tray aside, borscht still untouched. "She's quite impressive… There's a bright career ahead of that one. She certainly seems to be following along the path of her aunt. Speaking of whom, how does _Kate_ feel about this?"

"Yeah, about _that_… Walk with me, Manning."

They left the cafeteria, walking side by side to the conference room as Hellboy quickly related Kate's disappearance to Manning, who seemed flabbergasted by the unfolding of events.

"...So technically, I guess DeLeon _was_ my source for finding out about Jakarta. Through Charlie, that is."

"It's unfortunate I didn't know about Kate yesterday," Manning countered. "I would have been able to set aside some extra time on the dossier to try and do a recon. As it is, you'll be busy enough with the graves for the time allotted in Jakarta. You'll have one, _maybe_ two days to look into it, but nothing more, unfortunately, since your stay in Indonesia will be immediately followed by a week in Scotland to investigate a water demon that's been spotted in the Loch Ness."

He rolled his eyes in disbelief. "Okay, now _that _I didn't know. Another _week_, really? Don't other countries have, I dunno, their own versions of me?" he asked, sighing frustratedly. They now stood outside the conference room doors. "Why is it only _me_ who can do this stuff? It never ends. I mean, shit, Manning… I must have a good six month's vacation accrued by now!"

"At _least_ that much," Manning reluctantly offered. "_Not_ that we'd ever let you take it all at once, for future reference. And while other countries have their own paranormal defense teams, I'd wager a guess that none are quite as good at getting the job done as you are. If you're anything, you're thorough."

He allowed himself a small smirk of self-appreciation. "Damn right, I am. No point half-assing anything worth doing. But mark my words, Manning. I'm gonna take at least a _week _of that vacation within the next six months. It's happening."

"I'll pencil you down in my mental calendar," Manning smiled. It had been a long time since the two of them had conversed without a small argument of some sort breaking out. Hellboy took it as a good sign.

"So, you'll do it, right? You'll bring Charlie on board?"

Manning hesitated, seemingly also trying to preserve the temporary good faith between the two. "I'll do my best, Red. Unfortunately, the decision's more in Randall's hands than mine. Budget-wise, I'm not even sure if we-"

"_Screw_ the budget," he interrupted. "Cut her checks out of my vacation time, if you have to. Most of it'll go unused, _anyway_."

"I'm not making any promises, Red. But I'll talk to Randall tomorrow to see what can be done."

"Thank you," he nodded, proceeding into the conference room, taking his seat next to Abe.

The meeting ran two hours, with Manning giving the breakdown on the impending double-header: The plane was scheduled to leave at eight that evening, with Hellboy leading both assignments. Abe had opted to stay back at the Bureau for a chance to catch up on some overdue sector paperwork, but would be acting as a research facilitator on the homefront. He was assigned a team of six other agents, men and women he'd worked with many times, and had no problem trusting to get work done. He didn't even mind the required presence of a Bureau-sanctioned medium, which he normally would have balked at. _Anything to help get the job done faster_, he thought.

On his way out after the meeting had been adjourned, he considered stopping by Eric Randall's office for a conversation, but remembered that Randall was barely in the office even during weekdays, so of course he wouldn't be available on a sunday morning. _Besides, Tom already said he'd take care of it,_ he thought, walking out into the grey mid-morning gloom to go home and pack. _Better him than me. Fingers crossed that Randall doesn't screw this up._

-o-

The rest of Charlie's day had passed mostly without event. After the gym, she'd gone to the market for some groceries, came home and began making a hearty soup for what was shaping up to be another chilly evening. She perused some magazines as the afternoon wore on before becoming restless and venturing into Kate's office. She opened the storage closet in the office, digging for nothing in particular until she unearthed a small box simply labeled "photos".

Her heart beat as she pulled the box out onto the floor, beginning to comb through it. There were several rubber-banded groups of photos from the past thirty years, both family and otherwise. Pictures of Kate holding Charlie as a baby, then eleven years later, young Charlie sitting beside her, beaming as Kate held her new baby brother, Kyle. Every time she came across a photo of Kate and her mother, she immediately moved on to the next before she could really take a good look. _It would be no use getting upset now_, she thought.

She eventually came to the last two bundles of photos, one group significantly newer than the other. The old photos were slightly yellowed, squares with white borders around them. The pictures were new to Charlie, who treated each one as delicately as possible, as if touching them would destroy their strange beauty. A young Kate, seemingly in her late twenties, smiled unabashedly at the camera, waving at the photographer. The Pyramids of Egypt loomed in the background. The next photo was very similar, except in front of The Sphinx.

Charlie was captivated by her aunt's carefree beauty in the pictures, a spirit she still retained after many years. Her clothing and hairstyle had barely changed compared to current Kate. Only her face appeared younger in the picture, and not even by that much. Whoever the photographer was, was clearly a friend of hers, as seen in her familiarly laughing expression.

The last photograph in the set of pictures from Egypt was taken in a mirror in a marketplace. The image showed Kate, holding a camera in front of the mirror, her expression more serious, but not intense. The mirror reflected Kate and the marketplace scene behind her. Charlie could just make out something- some_one_- tall and red off in the background behind her in the crowd, face turned toward the mirror image. She flipped the picture over to find the caption _RED and Katie, Cairo, 1985._ Heart pulsing, she reluctantly put the last photo down, leaving it out of the bundle.

The last group contained more recent glossy images, Kate at events and symposiums with friends over the last ten or so years. She flipped through the unremarkable photos, until her eyes caught one in particular. Charlie's heart pounded even more than before. The photo included Kate posing with a group of people, her arm directly around none other than a younger Elizabeth Sherman, Hellboy's ex-girlfriend. Charlie recognized her immediately from the picture in the article, her dark brown hair and slender frame. Her eyes glinted in happiness, however; A far cry from the scowling woman in the former photo. The photo read _Lizzie and Me, NYE 1998._

She sighed, doing mental gymnastics around the fact that maybe there was a whole other side to Aunt Kate that she'd never known before, especially in regards to her work at the Bureau. She had a feeling that sooner rather than later, all sorts of information on her aunt would all be falling at her feet. She pocketed the mirror photo before swiftly ushering the photos back into the box, and closing them back up in the closet.

Sometime after dinner, her cell phone rang. It took all her strength to not answer it immediately, but let it ring twice before picking up.

"Hey," she answered, trying to quell the nervous feeling in her stomach.

"Charlie," began Hellboy on the other line. "How's it going, kiddo?"

"It's good," she answered truthfully. "Today's been... better, keeping busy and all that. How about you?"

"I'm doin' alright. Finishing some packing, at the moment."

"Jakarta, huh?" she asked.

"_And _Scotland. Back to back missions. Two weeks," he sighed heavily.

"Damn, I'm sorry. When do you leave?"

"Gotta be at the tarmac in less than an hour, so my shuttle's arriving pretty soon, here. I just wanted to call and let you know that I'm on my way over there, and I'll do my best to look into what happened to Kate while I'm there, but I don't know how much time I'll have to devote to it. A few days, maybe."

"It's more than I could hope for on such short notice," she began. "I'm not worried anymore. It might sound stupid, but I... really feel like if something awful had happened to her, more awful than just vanishing the way she did, I would _know_ it. Maybe I'm just being overly optimistic."

"I don't think so. I know what you mean," his deep voice reassured her. "And I have the distinct pleasure of traveling to the exorcism site with one of the Bureau's less annoying clairvoyants, so maybe she'll pick something up in regards to Katie. Here's hopin'."

Charlie laughed a bit, feeling instantly better. "Hey, thanks for doing this. And for coming over last night and hanging out. I haven't had fun like that I was in undergrad... Which reminds me, My apologies if I got belligerent or anything. I don't drink like that very often anymore, if my behavior didn't make that abundantly clear."

"You don't say?" He sarcastically replied. "Nah, you were fine, don't sweat it. It was more fun than I've had in a while, too. Gotta say, _really_ enjoyed meeting Stuart. Really a stand-up guy."

She felt her cheeks getting hot, recalling the situation from the previous night. "Oh... Yeah, _that_. I actually got an apology out of him for his behavior this morning, if you can believe it."

"Ehhh. Still don't like him."

"Don't worry, me either," she mused.

He chuckled, clearing his throat over the line. "I'm gonna go ahead and forward you my partner Abe's info, just in case you have any questions or anything while I'm out. I'll try to check in after Jakarta, but I'm not sure how connected I'll be."

"Sounds great. I- Well, I'll let you get back to packing. Thanks for checking in."

"The pleasure is mine, any time. And I'll be back before you know it. We'll make plans then."

"Can't wait. Have... a safe trip." _Can't wait? Dear Lord, you're awkward, Charlie_, she berated herself.

"You bet. Seeya later, kiddo." She could hear his smile over the phone as they said goodbye, hanging up.

-o-

"What's so funny?"

Hellboy had just hung up, walking into the living room with a small grin still plastered on his face. He looked across the living room toward Abe, who had been having a staredown with Shortstack, but was now looking in his direction.

"Nothing that concerns you, Blue. Why?"

"Oh, no reason. I just haven't seen you smile so much in quite some time."

"Yeah, well," he began, zipping his bag closed. "Think what you want to, Abe. Also as a heads-up, I'm giving your contact info to Charlie just in case of an emergency."

Abe hesitantly petted the purring cat, rubbing alongside his legs. "I hope she won't need to use it, but I'll let you know if something occurs and she does."

"Thanks... Are the two of you gonna be okay?" He asked, pointing at Shortstack, now making Abe's lap into a nest. He walked by the chair Abe was planted in and gave the cat a quick pat on the head before grabbing his duffel. "Thanks for feeding him for me, by the way."

"No problem. As long as he doesn't try to eat me, we'll be fine," Abe smiled. "You should probably get going soon. Don't want to miss the flight. And good luck! Fill me in if you get the chance."

"Thanks, Abe. I will" He threw the duffel over his shoulder before heading for the front door and out the front of the building to the waiting shuttle.

"...Here goes nothin'."


	6. Chapter 6

_Happy friday, everyone. I've been itching to get this chapter finished for a few days, now, and finally it's done. Thank goodness! I finally feel like the story's moving along in the right direction, I hope! Quick question, though: Are the chapters feeling too long? I feel like I get too wordy and include way too much for someone's attention span to be held for one sitting. Let me know if the length of the chapters works, otherwise I can work on finding good places in the text to break it up and post shorter chapters. SOME FUN FACTS: Eric Randall, in my headcanon, looks like Cary Elwes. Not sure why, but he does. Also, I'm trying to write HB as less of movie!HB and more like comic!HB. I just finished reading 4 out of the 5 current issues of Hellboy in Hell, so I'm trying to stick with comic!HB's demeanor a little more. Not that I don't love me some Ron Perlman!HB, because I do. Really, I do. His voice is perf. Anyway! Enough rambling. Happy reading! -S.A._

* * *

_The plane ride took almost twenty hours._

_They had finally made it to the neighboring village of the excavation site at around five a.m., by loaded van. The small community of Baduy was a far cry from the busy, urbanized downtown area of Jakarta, less than one hundred miles away. After an extremely brief sleep in the hut he'd been assigned, Hellboy roused himself to go in search of other agents on the team for the rundown. _

_After a brief rendezvous with his Bureau team, an indigenous guide, and the lead archaeologist heading the interrupted excavation, they made their way to the site for preliminary examination. According to the archaeologist, Dr. Todd Samuels, the unmarked graves were located in a dry rift valley on the side of a small, inactive volcano. He explained that they were estimated to be almost two thousand years old, dating them to around the year 12 or 13 C.E. The initial excavation had gone as planned, as they were only hoping to uncover artifacts of the tribes that had lived in the rift valley before, but once the crew had encountered a strange, magnetic force field, they knew something was off about the site, but continued on anyway. Once a body was finally uncovered, Dr. Samuels explained, all hell had broken loose (pardon the expression, he'd ended sheepishly). Fifteen of the twenty two members of the team immediately fell ill, each with a sweaty fever that left them retching for air from an anonymous, noxious smell that filled their nostrils. Once removed from the valley, each one returned to normal._

_The malevolent aura haunting the excavation site tolerated only the presence of a few individuals, the doctor included, none of whom had stepped foot back in the area since the sickness had rolled through most of their team just days before. Dr. Samuels, who had made the short trek alongside Hellboy for the majority of the way, expressed his extreme concern that the members of the Bureau team would befall the same illness if they entered the seemingly sacred ground. Hellboy assured him not to worry, that exorcisms were run-of-the-mill in his line of work, and it would be as simple as waving his hand and saying a prayer. _

_Sure enough, as they approached the site to preliminarily investigate, Maggie Baum, the Bureau-sanctioned medium, immediately began convusling, the whites of her eyes burning bright._

"_What is it?" Hellboy asked, noticing with alarm that the older woman seemed to be blurring at the edges with how fast she was vibrating. He put his hand on her to still her, walking her a few paces back, the team looking on. She all but fainted, her eyes falling closed as if in sleep, then immediately flew open as she gasped for air. _

"_They are in a state of extreme unrest," she said simply, her curly red hair streaked with white puffing out around her face._

"_No shit, Mag," he laughed, glad the medium was okay. "D'you think a standard procedure will do the trick?"_

"_It's worth a shot," she breathed, accepting some water from an agent. "I would suggest that you, the guide, and Dr. Samuels be the only ones allowed in the thick of it, however. I'll do my best to supervise. I'm afraid the force will be too strong for any of these other tykes," she said, gesturing with her thumb toward the less-seasoned agents._

"_Whatever you say," he shook his head. "Alright, team, we'll take tomorrow to assemble the needed reliquary, then commence the appropriate ceremonies."_

_Two days later, they were led to the site once again by Irwan, the indigenous guide, in the early twilight of the evening. The agents kept their distance from the site as Hellboy, Dr. Samuels, and Maggie approached the grounds. Immediately Hellboy felt his whole body go tense with the familiar sensation of being on unwelcoming ground. He inhaled a deep breath, focusing all his strength on his mind. He extracted his rosary from the reliquary, beginning his internal latin incantations. The air around him grew thick and windy with hostility as, in his mind, he met face to face with the malevolent spirit that possessed the burial site. The corpses themselves began to animate, ascending from their graves as Maggie and Dr. Samuels looked on in horror. _

_It would appear to any outsider that he was just a crazy person standing silently in the middle of a group of makeshift zombies, holding his ever-spinning rosary tightly in his left hand as he hovered his right hand in mid-air. Suddenly he knelt to the ground, plunging his right hand into the ground, up to his elbow. He seemed to struggle with something momentarily, before victoriously extracting a dirty, still-beating purple heart from the ground. Dr. Samuels, unable to watch, turned to vomit at the sight._

_Hellboy placed the heart into a metal canister full of blessed water. The water boiled immediately, a very loud screech and exaggerated sound of hissing steam emerging from the small vessel. The wind calmed as he stood from his kneeling position, replacing the lid on the cannister and turned to his companions._

"_Okay," he shrugged. "Let's go."_

"_That… that was it?" asked Dr. Samuels, wiping his mouth._

"_Yep."_

"_He's a very quick worker," Maggie assured him, offering out a handkerchief. "Quiet, too."_

"_I can see that," Samuels replied, obviously skeptical._

"_What, was that not showy enough for you?" scoffed Hellboy. "I can raise the dead some more, make 'em dance around a little, if that'll convince you…"_

_Samuels turned green, shaking his head. "That's... quite alright, thank you."_

"_You two go on ahead," he gestured to Maggie and the doctor. "I gotta bless the graves and clean up. I'll catch up later."_

_Maggie and Samuels scooted back to the awaiting team, leaving him to finish up alone. Or so he thought. He was emptying out the water on the ground, when he looked up to find Irwan, who had silently come to stand in front of him._

"_Jesus, kid, maybe announce yourself next time you- Uh-oh."_

_Irwan stood above him, whites of his eyes showing, as Maggie's had two days previously. He seemed to sway where he stood, his breath coming out in rattles. Hellboy sighed, shaking his head in annoyance._

"_Okay, one mini-exorcism, comin' up-"_

"_WAIT" Irwan's voice emerged, much deeper and forceful than the young man barely out of his teens could ever conjure on his own._

"_Listen, I don't have all day to take orders from malevolent spirits, so I'm gonna have to ask you to get out of this poor sucker before I have to remove you myself."_

"_YOU SEEK SOMEONE, DEMON"_

_He stilled at this. "Maybe. Who says I do?"_

"_IT IS KNOWN"_

_Okay... now it's getting weird, he thought. "What do you know about it?"_

"_YOU SEEK THE MISSING FEMALE DOCTOR"_

"_Yeah. I do," he began impatiently. "And unless you want to tell me where she is, I'd suggest you-"_

"_BEHIND YOU"_

"_What?" He spun around to find himself looking at a very drawn and tired-looking Dr. Kate Corrigan, herself. She appeared to be a solid being, not an apparition, though no one could say for certain. He didn't reach out to try and touch her, in case she wasn't there._

"_Katie…Is it really you?" he began in disbelief._

"_I don't have much time, Red," she began urgently. "What I'm about to tell you is extremely important, so please listen to me."_

_He nodded, not daring to say a word._

"_I was removed from Tunisia by forces unseen. I don't know who's behind it, and to be honest... I don't know how I even got here. I keep slipping in and out of consciousness. All I know is, the ones in charge of my well-being, my captors… they aren't entirely human, Red. They look human, but that's about it. They said they need me for something, but they've kept me in the dark as to what it is. Though... I have some guesses._

"_What I need from you is assurance that you won't come after me to find me where I'm going. Not until it's safe."_

"_What- when will it be safe?" he asked, confused. "Why not now? Why can't I just take you back with me right now? I can protect you from them, and Charlie, she's-"_

_At the mention of Charlie's name, Kate gave a slight gasp. "My Charlie? Is she alright?"_

"_She's fine, Katie. She's worried about you, wants you home. We all do," he offered. "I can take you there. Protect you from whatever it is."_

"_I know you will, Red. You always did," she smiled sadly, backing away into the surrounding trees. "As it is, I'm not all here… I have to leave. Take care of Charlie for me, for now. And when I need you to come back for me, I'll let you know."_

"_Wh- How will I know? What is it you think you were brought here for?"_

_Before fully backing into the forest behind her, she removed an item from her pocket, dropping something in the grass at her feet, before turning and running. He stepped forward to follow her, but she had already disappeared too far._

"_Katie?"_

_He walked toward where she had been, beginning to kneel to examine what she had dropped. A rustling behind him reminded him of Irwan's presence. He turned to address the perhaps still-possessed man, when something hit him on the back of the head, and all went black._

-o-

(_fourteen days and two continents later..._)

He had never itched for solid ground more.

As the cargo plane hit the tarmac, Hellboy was already up out of his seat, bag thrown over his shoulder. Maggie and the other agents had already been home for over a week, as he had been the only agent whose presence had been required on the second mission. It had been a long and lonely plane ride preceded by a longer and lonelier mission in rural Scotland.

It was wednesday at nearly four in the afternoon, Eastern time by the time his feet finally hit the solid ground. He rolled his back, attempting to work out the kinks, as he walked toward the pickup where there was a shuttle van already waiting for him. He waved goodbye to the air captains, tossing his bag into the cabin, sighing as he climbed in after it.

He immediately recognized the driver as Melvin Turner, a young black agent currently dressed in plainclothes. Melvin turned around at the wheel to greet him. "HB, my man! How the hell have you been?"

"Mel," he nodded wearily at the driver. "I've seen better days, that's for sure… Nothing a little R and R won't fix. But, besides that, can't really complain. You?"

"Man, I'm alright. Bureau's a little uprooted right now, so I volunteered for shuttle duty, today," he smiled. "How'd the missions go?"

"Surprisingly... successful," he began. "Though I did run into a bit of a... _situation_ in Scotland. But that's another story for another day. What do you mean, the Bureau's uprooted?"

"_Interns,_ man," he shook his head, putting the van into drive. "Crawlin' _all over_ the place today. Orientation, or some nonsense. I mean, it's fine, they'll settle in, but HR's been pretty tied up with getting everyone all situated."

This piqued Hellboy's interest. _Had Manning made good on his request? _He hoped so, though he knew the only way to find out would be to actually make a visit to the Bureau and see if Charlie was there.

"Hey, Mel, can we just swing by my place to drop off my bag? I think I'll come back to the office with you."

Mel nodded at him in the rearview mirror. "Sure thing, HB."

-o-

Mel dropped him off in front of the Bureau building, driving around back to park the shuttle. He pushed the front doors open, walking into the vast cool space of the rounded lobby. A large glass door bearing the Bureau seal lay straight ahead.

A group of twenty or so young, fresh-looking young men and women was gathered a distance away in the center of the lobby, talking amongst themselves. _Obviously the fresh meat_. _Or, semi-fresh,_ he thought, reminding himself that the majority of the interns, save hopefully Charlie, had all been in the program before. He stopped his gait, searching for the hard-to-miss Charlie in the crowd. He scanned each face separately, carefully, walking behind the group to scope the back of the crowd in case she was obscured behind some of the taller interns.

No such luck.

He stood at his distance along the perimeter, crossing his arms in front of him. Soon, Manning emerged from the large, seal-bearing doors that led into the main hall of the Bureau, followed closely by Agent Eric Randall, who carried a clipboard and a large stack of packets.

_Randall, that smug bastard_, he thought as he watched the younger of the two agents stop in front of the crowd, distributing the packets amongst the interns, chatting with those he was more familiar with. He pushed his blonde mop of hair out of his face as he chatted with one particular young lady, who familiarly touched his shoulder in greeting, and offered a sparkling laugh at whatever charm he'd been laying on her. _Wonder if she knows he's got a wife and kids_, he thought with mild disgust.

Manning cleared his throat, and Hellboy listened as he welcomed the interns to their second year acceptance, letting them know it had been a tough race, but they'd come out with the coveted spots. Hellboy could feel his annoyance rise at this, willing to bet that Charlie deserved a spot more than half of the people standing in the lobby.

Manning stepped back, giving the floor to Randall, who immediately launched into the content of the orientation packets. He caught Manning's eye, and raised a brow in disappointment, mouthing "where is she?"

Manning opened his mouth a few times as if to respond, before getting frustrated and mouthing back "we'll talk later." He pointedly turned his head away, signalling that he was done with the silent exchange.

Hellboy shook his head, quickly stalking out of the lobby through a side door, making his way down the side hall toward the library. _Should've known Manning wouldn't take me seriously,_ he thought, shaking his head as he turned the corner of the hall. _Especially now, when I actually need Charlie on my team if we ever want to get Katie back_...

He heaved an exhausted sigh, pushing his weight against one of the doors to the library to swing it open.

Abe was standing with his back turned by the wall of books, the refracting blue light of his tank bouncing off his shoulder. He was intently examining a very old tome, and didn't seem to be alarmed, or even alerted to Hellboy's presence.

"Honey, I'm home," he called sarcastically, shaking Abe out of his trance.

He fumbled the book, turning immediately in surprise. "Red! You're back! I wasn't expecting you back in until at least tomorrow!"

"Yeah, I uh, caught an early flight back. Had to get outta Scotland. You'd think I would be perfectly at ease being back in the place I was given earthly life, but..." He shuddered involuntarily. "I couldn't leave that hellhole soon enough."

"Red, there's-"

"And you can imagine my _surprise_ when I get back and find out that not only is today intern orientation day, but once again, Tom Manning has displayed his unwavering inability to make good on promises."

"Red-"

"Yeah, yeah. I know. He didn't actually _promise_ anything, but still. I mean," he continued, on a roll. "You'd think that I would at least rate _some_ level of importance on the Manning scale, and after years, _decades _of being his go-to guy that I could give some input in the way things are run, and now I have to find a way to circumvent his authority to get Charlie, which I was _really_ trying to avoid-"

"_Hellboy."_

"What, Abe?" He asked, having visibly worked himself up.

"I'm trying to tell you something."

He took a deep breath. "Alright... What is it?"

Abe had opened his mouth to reply when they were interrupted by someone awkwardly turning the handle of the library door, pushing it open from the outside. Hellboy turned to observe as Charlie herself, carrying a stack of files that had to be obscuring her line of sight, backed carefully through the doors before carrying them blindly toward a nearby table. "Alright, Agent Sapien, I think this is everything you wanted... Oof!"

She dropped the stack of files unceremoniously, shaking her hands out with accomplishment. She looked up, eyes growing wide with the realization that her clumsy maneuvering had an audience. A small smile lit up her features as she locked eyes with him. "Hellboy! You're back!"

"Charlie? You're... here now?" he managed with disbelief, all his former frustration dissolving at the sight of her.

Her smile widened as she walked over to the two agents, barely containing her happiness. "Dr. Manning called me last week, with bad news... _and_ good news. He said that the bad news was, there was no way to get me into the intern program. But the _good_ news is, he had Agent Sapien, over here," she nodded toward Abe, who looked pleased with himself. "open a formal employment request for a temporary research assistant, so as of now, I'm actually employed by the BPRD. Which is unbelievable."

He smiled, shaking his head in amazement as he put a hand on her shoulder in greeting. "Congratulations, Charlie, that's... better news than I could've hoped for you. You deserve it, kid. The _unbelievable_ part is that Manning actually came through."

"Oh, _ye of little faith_," Abe quipped, moving toward the stack of files.

"Yeah, Manning... He said you'd probably never speak to him again if he didn't find a way to get me here," she blushed, touching his arm in acknowledgement.

"Smart one, that Manning," he winked, withdrawing his hand from her shoulder, crossing his arms over his chest. "So, tell me, what is it exactly that separates _your_ position from an intern?"

"Well, I'm still probationary, and part-time, so I'll only be here three or four days a week," she began, mirroring his stance. "And as a formality, I still have to report to Agent Randall about once a month for progress meetings, since he's the liason for new hires."

"You have my condolences," he offered.

"Ha, thanks. But Agent Manning made it clear that once I graduate, there's a full-time position waiting here for me. Which is… I don't know, _incredible_... I really don't know how I can ever repay you for pushing for me," she offered quietly.

"Don't mention it, kiddo," he shook his head. "You did all the heavy lifting, I just did what I thought had to be done."

She smiled in return. "I guess, to answer your question, the difference between my job and an intern is that I have clearance to assist in the field, which I'm not sure how I really feel about that... So, _that_, and I have an access badge to places like the records room, where I was just grabbing files for Abe."

Abe looked up from the files, smiling. "Yes. Thank you, Charlie. Everything is perfectly in order."

She gave him a smile, which immediately diminished as she checked her pockets for something. "Dammit... Speaking of my access badge, I think I left it there. So much for having it all together... I'll be right back," she promised, walking quickly out.

Red and Abe looked at each other as the door closed behind her.

"How long has she been here?" He started curiously.

"Today was her first official day, though she only got here at noon. I met her briefly last Friday though, when Manning called her in to do her employment paperwork. You were right, you know."

"About what?"

We _do_ get along very well," he smiled. "She's much like Kate… smart, witty, efficient... How did you put it...'_easy on the eyes_'?"

"Actually, I _believe_ I said 'not bad to look at', but it's same idea, I guess," he testily recalled the conversation, looking pointedly at Abe. "Have a little crush, do we, Blue?"

"Not in the slightest. I'm just confirming your observations from before." he began lightly. "Besides, even if I did, I doubt it would matter. She seems to already have a _very protective_ man in her life, from what she's told me…"

"What are you talking about?" he asked sharply, narrowing his brow.

"Oh, yes, she speaks about him very highly," Abe exaggeratedly wagged his forehead. "Apparently, this 'boyfriend' of hers managed to coerce her stubborn landlord into fixing her water heater, for which she told me she's extremely grateful-"

"Ah, she told you about that, did she?" he asked, a slight smile playing on his mouth. A small part of him felt relieved that she still found the Stuart situation humorous, and an even smaller part relieved that she hadn't _actually_ had a change in her relationship status in the past two weeks. Not that it mattered to him.

"Who else would I be talking about? She's clearly very fascinated with you. I never stood a chance," he joked. "But in all seriousness, Red, I assure you my admiration remains strictly platonic. I'll be glad for the company. This library's been a Boy's Club for far too long."

"What, you don't like the man cave?" he accused jokingly. "No, I know what you mean… As much as I hate to admit it, and _I hate to admit it_, having... _Liz_ around when she was still here was a huge help on cases. Y'know, except for when she was too busy digging the knife into my heart, which she was _great_ at, and did pretty much all the time…"

Abe sighed, massaging his temple. "Oh, boy. And here I was, thinking we'd make it it the rest of the year without you bringing her up in a negative way."

"Sorry, sorry. I know the two of you are still close," he shrugged it off, turning to look absentmindedly at the vast wall of water.

Abe followed him to the tank, standing beside him. "She'd... still like an opportunity to talk, you know. Given the way things ended. She said she's ready to-"

"Oh, _she's_ ready?" he began abruptly, laughing humorlessly. "That's _rich_, Abe, really. Well, what about _me_? What about when _I _was ready to talk five years ago, and _she_ all but disappeared?"

Abe nodded in understanding, though Hellboy noted the sadness behind his eyes. He placed his red arm against the giant tank, staring into the blue nothingness. Liz' sudden departure from the Bureau years before had been painful for _everyone_ involved. His gut panged with the memories of her, finally walking out for good, leaving the both of them behind: Abe, a very concerned friend, and him, a heartbroken shell of a his former self. The years had numbed the confusion and loss, and the occasional happy memory of her sometimes ghosted through his subconscious, but any verbal reminder of her turned his blood cold. Abe still kept in contact with her, after it had all come to pass. Though Hellboy knew about it, he chose to actively ignore it. Any mention from Abe of her wanting to speak to him, which had only been brought to his attention within the last year, was met with an emotional blockade.

He rested his long-unshaven horns slightly against the glass with a light clink. "Sorry, Abe. I'm sure it sucks to see your two best friends behave this way. _Me_, especially. You'd think after all this time, I wouldn't get so worked up over it."

"I understand. But I think eventually, if you want to move on, _really_ want to move on, you'll have to hear her out. She says she'll make the trip whenever you're ready."

He nodded slowly, pulling his head away from the glass. "For your sake, I promise I won't discount that, Blue. But not yet."

Just then, Charlie re-entered the room, badge clutched securely in her hand. She gave them a relieved smile. "Got it."

Attempting to regain an atmosphere of normalcy now that Charlie had returned, Hellboy approached the table, picking up one of the files. "So, what's up with these, Blue?"

Abe moved back to the volume he'd been reading when Hellboy had entered the library, flipping the book open to where he'd left off. "Oh, just looking into past cases we've had in regards to Vampiric ritual drainings in the Louisiana area. There's been reports on the Bureau intranet about suspicious vampiric activity in New Orleans lately."

"Fascinating," he sarcastically quipped, raised a brow. He looked over to Charlie, whose face betrayed her opinion that nothing could possibly _be_ more fascinating. She caught him looking, and quickly attempted to hide her expression of awe with a passive face. A series of beeps suddenly filled the silence of the room, coming from a digital clock on a side table next to Abe.

"Five already?" Abe began, looking up from his book to the clock. "Time flies. You're free to go whenever, Charlie. Thanks for your help with the files today. We'll visit them next time."

"Of course," she replied happily. "I'll, uh… grab my stuff."

Hellboy watched as she gave him a smile, and slowly moved to the corner where her coat and bag were sitting on a chair. She looked back at him, raising her brow.

"I'll walk you out, Charlie," he offered, walking for the door. "I gotta go home, get some rest anyway."

"Sure," she smiled, clearly pleased as she picked her belongings off the chair. "I'll let you lead the way, then. See you later, Abe!"

Abe looked up from his book, smiling at the two of them in the closing doorway. "Until next time, Miss Adler."

"I'll brief you on the missions tomorrow, that okay, Blue?" he asked, sticking his head back through the door.

"Roger that, Red," he waved.

Hellboy closed the library door behind him, clearing his throat. "So, did you get a tour of the campus?" he asked her.

"Sort of. Agent Manning showed me the parking area, the dining hall, the conference room, his office, the records room, and here, of course. But aside from that, no," she finished.

"I'll assume you parked in the lot, so I'll take you the long way, show you a few more places," he began. They started down the hall, at a lingering pace.

She smiled shyly, looking up at him as they walked. "I'd ask you how your trip was, but I'd bet that's the last thing you want to talk about, right now."

"You'd bet right. However," he started, meeting her eyes. "I do have some brief news to share with you about Katie. Nothing groundbreaking, aside from the fact that she's alive... and she's okay."

Her gaze sharpened as she swallowed involuntarily. He could tell she was bursting with questions, but was politely restraining herself. "Really," she managed to breathe out, as if daring him to be lying.

"Yes. Unfortunately, she's magically bound there, currently. Someone is controlling her through dark means, and she experiences instances of losing lucidity."

"You spoke with her?" she asked quietly.

"That's the thing," he began. "I'm not sure if I really did. There's only one thing that makes me think that at least part of the conversation we had was real."

-o-

_The next thing Hellboy knew, he was in the hut back in the Baduy village they'd made camp in._

_He was in bed, and his eyes flew open as he woke, gasping for air. A slight sheen of sweat covered him, and he wiped at his forehead with the linen sheet that he'd thrown off of himself in the fits of sleep. He sat in the darkness of the room, dim by the light of a single candle in the corner, listening to the chirping of nocturnal insects outside. A cool breeze came in through the window, lightly billowing the curtains. By his estimate, it had to have been nearing midnight, maybe later._

"_There we are," came a voice from the corner. He jerked his head toward the speaker, finding Maggie, sitting silently in the corner, knitting._

"_Mag, what happened?" he asked, a pounding in his head drumming up as soon as he spoke._

"_Well," she began, placing her knitting down, moving to get a glass of water from the chest of drawers in the corner. "After you sent us back toward camp, Irwan came barreling back toward us, say, twenty minutes later. Said you were babbling some nonsense about chasing women in the woods, and that you'd lost consciousness."_

"_Yeah, I did. That little shit hit me over the head," he retorted, gently touching the crown of his head where he'd been whacked. Maggie simply smiled. "How long ago was that?"_

"_Two," she said simply, extending to him a glass of water._

"_Two hours?"_

"_Two _days_," she smiled knowingly._

"_Shit," he sighed. "At least we're still on schedule, I guess."_

"_You needed the rest," the red-haired woman assured him. "I've been monitoring you during your spiritual absence. You were having some pretty wild fever dreams while you were knocked out, too. Kept talking about some guy named Charlie."_

"_No, Charlie's…"_

"_I'm only kidding. I know who Charlie is, Red. I'm clairvoyant, remember?" the old lady winked. _

"_Speaking of Charlie… This," she added, pulling something from her pocket. "Is for her. From Dr. Corrigan, I can only presume."_

_He held out his left hand as Maggie dropped a long silver chain with a dangling rusted brown-red pendant into it. _Must be what Katie dropped_, he thought, as he ran the rough, unpolished gem through his fingers._

"_It's called painite," Maggie said simply. "Beautiful, isn't it? A local mineral."_

"_How… do you know it's for Charlie?" he asked._

"_You told me that yourself when we went back to collect you from the site," she smiled, raising a brow. "Not that I expect you to remember that. After we brought you round, your lucidity was dubious, but you remained conscious for the walk back, thank the heavens we didn't have to carry you. You held off on passing out until we were a few yards away from the door, here."_

"_What else did I say, anything?" he asked, noticing the glint of the facets in the dim, flickering candlelight._

"_Nothing of importance," she said with a knowing smile. "You made it very clear that you'd just had a conversation with Dr. Corrigan."_

"_Now I'm not so sure," he said. _

"_Well, if that amulet isn't enough to prove it to you, I will also back up the assertion that she was there. A strong apparition, in the least, but there were signatures of transcendental travel. Her will was strong, if she managed to bring a piece of the physical realm along with her," Maggie finished._

_He considered the beautiful but altogether unspectacular stone. He normally didn't buy stock in psychic mumbo jumbo, but his stance was mainly because he was incredibly biased against the air of pompousness that went along with those claiming to be in tune with the psychic world. He knew Maggie, however, was the real thing, and dealt strictly in straight-talk for the most part. _

_He nodded as Maggie smiled in satisfaction, moving outside with the promise of fetching him some herbal tea._

-o-

He pulled the pendant on a long chain out from his black shirt, taking it from around his neck. He'd been wearing it since Indonesia, testing it for any ill effects that might befall the wearer. He'd found it entirely unremarkable.

"She- dream or real- Kate, gave me this. I gather it's for you," he started, slipping it around her neck, still holding onto the stone. "Maggie, our clairvoyant-medium-whatever, called it an 'amulet', so hopefully it'll protect you from… whatever you need protecting from."

She laughed, taking the stone from his hand. "It's really warm," she remarked, inspecting it in the palm of her hand.

"Well, I've been wearing it under my shirt for a while now, so it's probably retaining some of my heat," he reasoned.

"No, I mean, it's… getting hotter." She watched as, in her hand, the color of the painite turned from a rusty brown red into a deeper crimson purple. The crimson seemed to glow and glitter from the center of the gem. She slowly let it fall out of her hand.

She gasped in surprise as a small, circular scar was left behind in the palm of her hand, raised and angry-looking.

"Did it just… burn you?" he asked in concern. "You should probably take it off, if-"

"No, it's… it's cool now," she said, confusedly touching the gem. "I didn't even feel it leave that scar. Didn't hurt, or anything."

"Probably its' signature," he shrugged, still a little worried. "Let me know if it gives you any trouble."

"Yeah… of course," she nodded nervously, as they continued on down the hall.

He took her out along the back way, through the BPRD vehicle lot, down along a winding path lined by trees and bushes. Several lesser Bureau facilities dotted the landscape in the distance.

"The Bureau grounds are beautiful," she said, looking up at the trees overhead. "Reminds me of one of those old college campuses. All these brick buildings, full of history."

"See that one over there?" he asked, pointing to a small factory building toward the edge of the fenced-in lot. She nodded.

"That's an old World War Two factory building. They used it to build tanks in there for the war," he said.

"Whaaat! That's amazing," she sighed. "What's in there now?"

"One of the campus gyms. And it also happens to be where I live," he added.

She rolled her eyes. "You live in a gym? Not surprising."

He shook his head, leaning against a low ledge as she laughed. "Nice try, but no. One side of the building is a gym, other side is where my apartment is. I used to live in the main campus building, you know. Once upon a time. I told 'em if they didn't let me have my own space, I'd walk. So there you have it."

"Good for you. Living right on top of your work sounds terrible."

He laughed. "Believe you me, it was. Anyway, as an employee, you have full use of the gym, so feel free to use that one, or the one in the main building. They're pretty well-equipped."

"As if this day couldn't get any better," she sighed, hopping up to sit next to him on the ledge, fidgeting with the painite in the dimming sun of the evening. "I still feel like I'm dreaming. Or like I'm gonna screw it up at any given moment."

"You'll do great," he assured her, moving closer to lightly check her with his shoulder. "Abe already likes you."

"I like him, too," she replied, laughing. "He's pretty great, with how much he geeks out over all the research involved in the cases. He has a great wealth of information."

"Yeah, he's also nosy as hell," he interjected.

"Well great, so am I!" She blushed. "There's just so much to learn. Hell, I don't even know if I'm _dressed_ right… is there a dress code I should know about?"

"Not as far as _I_ know," he answered, glancing down at her sitting directly beside him. She wore a pair of fitted jeans tucked into worn leather engineer boots, a flattering white v-neck shirt, and a long grey knit cardigan. Her dark honey-colored hair hung in soft, loose waves around her pretty face, which was turned toward his. Her long, dark lashes blinking, observing him as he stared down at her. _Shit._

He cleared his throat, mentally berating himself for allowing his gaze to linger. "I doubt there'll be a problem if you stick to the general idea of what you're in now. Looks great to me."

He noticed her blush deepen alluringly as she looked away, fiddling some more with the necklace. "Oh… Good. Thanks," she replied, somewhat reluctantly hopping off the wall.

"Well, I should probably let you get some rest," she offered, hugging her bag close to her, failing to keep her embarrassed smile at bay.

"Yeah... it's finally starting to catch up to me," he yawned, stretching out. "I'll walk you to your car real quick, then it's curtains for me."

The sun was rapidly fading as they approached the lot where she was parked, which was thankfully a few hundred yards off from his apartment.

"See you tomorrow?" he asked.

"Nope," she shook her head. "I don't work Thursdays… yet. Friday, though. It's a promise."

"Oh," he began, slightly disappointed, and hoping deeply that he hadn't offended her with his gaze. "Friday, then."

She nodded, walking up to her car.

"Hey, I- I'm glad you're back," she began, looking up at him. Her stormy grey eyes boldly looked directly into his, full lips quirked into a half-smile, as if there was secretly more on her mind that she was itching to say. "I... worried about you. Even though I know that's a totally silly thing to do, given that you're… well, _you._"

"That's... nice to hear, Charlie. Really," he began, scratching the back of his head, taken off-guard by her obviously high capacity for caring. Though he desired sleep, he longed to talk with her more, if only because he'd just spent ten days practically in solitude. Even Indonesia had been preferable to Scotland… at least in Baduy, he'd had a team to be around. Scotland had been lonelier than he'd imagined, and he'd found himself, on more than one occasion, missing his and Charlie's newfound friendship.

"I'm glad to be back, too," he continued. "And hey... if you aren't busy Friday night after work, we could... hang out, grab a drink, or something. I brought back some interesting artifacts and books from Indonesia. If you'd be interested in taking a look, that is."

"Sounds great; I'm there," she nodded, as she unlocked the door, throwing her bag into the passenger's seat, looking at him.

"'Bye, _Red_," she grinned almost flirtily, getting in the car.

"Later, _Charlie_," he replied with a wave, turning to finally make his way home, to his shower and bed. He breathed an inward sigh of relief that she hadn't turned down his offer to spend time hanging out outside of work.

_Books and artifacts, eh? Great excuse. As if you couldn't just bring them in to work on Friday,_ his subconscious remarked as he entered the large hallway of the warehouse, approaching his front door on the lefthand side of the hall.

As he turned the key in the lock, he wearily told his subconscious to shove it.


	7. Chapter 7

_Holy CRAP, you guys. This chapter is a doozy. I mean... it's SUPER long. I pre-emptively apologize for that, but it's a LOT of character interaction and development between Charlie and Red, plus some pretty srs bsns will-they-won't-they sexual tension-y fluff, so hopefully you like that sort of stuff as much as I do! Some song mentions: Maybe Tomorrow by Stereophonics (I listen to this a lot while I write... the mood it gets me in is incredible), and of course, as you'll see, basically the entire discography of Al Green, hahaha. _

_I also apologize for not posting for a while, now. I've been working on a pivotal, delicate scene that will eventually show up (*wags eyebrows up and down*), but I got to the point where the need to write it outweighed the need to write the next chronological chapter. But it'll all be worth the wait, I swear._

_Please don't be a stranger! I LOVE reading your reviews... they warm my little heart immensely. Let me know what you think of it! I can't wait! _

_-S.A._

* * *

Thursday crawled by in a sleepless daze for Hellboy, who after spilling all the mission details to Abe, and typing up his incident report on Jakarta, exhaustedly made his way back home to try and claim sleep from the clutches of jet lag. He finally succeeded in capturing a solid twelve hours, a goal that he'd been unable to reach the night previous, where his mind couldn't seem to give him a break.

Friday dawned hazy and grey, and he took his time to lazily pluck himself out of bed and trudge toward the bathroom to brush his teeth. He didn't even bother to meet his shoddy reflection in the mirror, knowing he would be wholly dissatisfied with whatever was waiting for him within it.

_At least Charlie will be in the office today_, he thought, locking the door behind him as he left. Since relating the incident to Abe the day before, the blue man had shut off from all but necessary conversation, throwing himself into one of his research books, taking great pains to avoid any further talk of Jakarta. It made work crawl by, not having his usual partner to bounce ideas off of, or just shoot the breeze. At least having Charlie in the room would be a bright spot in what was otherwise shaping up to be a monotonous day of paperwork and gloomy blue fishmen.

He arrived at work before eight, heading to the break room for a cup of coffee before facing the moping Abraham. He walked in to find Charlie, one denim-clad leg folded under the other as she sat alone at the break room table, a travel mug of tea steaming in front of her. She looked up from the papers in front of her, smiling at his entrance.

"Hey, stranger. Fancy meeting you here."

"Hey. You're here kinda early, don'tcha think?" he asked, looking closer at the documents in front of her. "Is that my-"

"Incident report? Yes," she answered, taking a sip from the steaming mug. "I came in early to read through it, since I knew I wouldn't have time later. Agent Sapien seemed… _off_ about something, so I thought I'd come in here and finish them up, give him some space."

"And? Thoughts?"

"I don't even know where to begin," she answered, shaking her head. "I'm just holding onto the theory that Kate's a tough woman who can make it through something like this a whole lot better than anyone else would be equipped to."

He nodded in agreement, pulling a carafe of coffee off the burner as he poured the pungent liquid into a paper cup. "That, she is. And yeah… Abe. Not quite sure _what's_ up with him, but I'm certain it has something to do with whatever I told him in regards to the mission. Maybe I can pry it out of him over the weekend, once he's had time to get a nice, long sulk in. But wait, why wouldn't you have had time to read these later?"

She sighed. "I found out via email last night that I apparently _have_ to go through formal orientation with Randall, since he's _technically_ my probationary HR advisor. He said it would take all day."

"Oh," he frowned, slightly disappointed. "Well, are you still good to come by tonight?"

"It's the only thing that'll get me through the day, I think," she replied, overtly glancing at him. "I wish I could just skip orientation. I'm fairly certain that no matter _where_ you work, they make you watch hideously outdated videos on workplace policies, and they're all the same. I just hope they'll be unintentionally funny enough that I won't bore myself to tears."

"Have fun with that," he replied, accepting the incident report from her. "If you need me, I'll be in the library with Agent Doom-And-Gloom, writing my report on the clusterfuck that was Scotland."

"I _actually_ envy you," she snorted.

Just then, Eric Randall walked by the open door, rewinding his footsteps and sticking his head in. "Miss Adler, there you are! Be sure to be in room 16B in five minutes, if you please," he offered in an overly jovial tone.

"Sure thing, Agent Randall," she rose from her chair, pulling the tea bag out of her mug as she threaded its' lid on. Hellboy detected a slight undercurrent of sarcasm in her tone. "Might as well head over now, so I don't miss anything important."

"Good girl," Randall pompously replied, smiling genially. He turned his head slightly in the direction of Hellboy, nodding his head and giving a snide grin. "_Hellboy._"

"_Randall_," he nodded in reply, not bothering to look the blonde man in the eye.

"See you later, Red," she dropped her voice so that Randall couldn't hear, momentarily placing a hand on his shoulder as she walked by. "Oh, and hey… should I bring dinner tonight?"

"I never say no to food," he smiled, raising his brow.

"Excellent. I'll be in touch," she finished, rolling her eyes as she followed a smirking Randall out the door.

A small smile touched his lips as he shuffled the pages of the report, bracing himself for an exciting day of staring at screens and pushing papers.

-o-

Just before six, he'd been relieved to finally escape the clutches of work, and the drearily-mooded Abe, who had seemed to bristle and balk at any litmus-test mentions Hellboy made sure to make of Kate and Indonesia. As he walked toward home for the evening, he inhaled the delicious scent of burning autumn leaves stirring up from a nearby neighborhood. He was thankful at the prospect of finally properly reconnecting with Charlie, who had messaged him earlier saying she'd be by around seven with food.

Food was _more_ than alright with him. He only hoped she'd bring enough.

Greeted by the still and dark quiet of his apartment in the withering light of the early evening, he threw on the kitchen and living room lights, heading for the record player sitting on a short table against the wall. He knelt on the living room floor, flipping through a milk crate of records he'd collected over the years, most yellowed with age, and well-loved. The records ranged from the music of his youth, to even some more recent vinyls and B-sides he'd been lucky enough to come across in his travels. Feeling nostalgic, he extracted an Al Green Greatest Hits record that hadn't experienced any frequent rotation in his usual lineup in recent years, but had gotten a fair share of play in its' day.

He slid the flat black puck out of its' sleeve, placing it carefully on the turntable and lining up the needle. Al's soulful voice rose from the crackle, roaring to life, and crooning all the stress out of the day. He was almost tempted to pour a few fingers of something and kick back to let the raw sounds of the record wash over him, but the necessity of shaving his beard and horns couldn't be put off any longer.

He was almost embarrassed he'd let it get so out of hand. After a quick shower, he tied his hair back and pulled on a pair of black jersey lounge pants, standing shirtless as he looked in the steamy mirror of his spacious, subway-tiled bathroom. He ran his hands through the uneven patchiness of the facial hair on his jaw, overgrowing the lines of his usually streamlined sideburns and goatee. He sighed, resigning himself to the arduous task of shaving his face first, thankful that the guidelines of his usual facial hair were still in place. Once everything was properly shaved and trimmed, he was more than ready to be finished with grooming rituals for the evening, but the mirror told him differently. His horns had grown nearly a good inch in the few weeks since he'd last ground them down, and were currently jagged and worn from how surprisingly often he banged them against things, whether accidentally, or on purpose.

"Jesus, this must be how women feel," he mused annoyedly, shaking his head as he broke out the sander from one of the bathroom cupboard. He'd never been fond of the task of horn removal, because it forced him to stare for overly-long periods of time into the mirror, observing his physical differences from any other everyday man. In his younger days, he'd been the most un self-conscious, precocious kid around on the BPRD's base in New Mexico. It hadn't been until he began his extremely rapid physical maturation that he'd realized that nobody else he'd known his age was _like him_, and that he was incredibly different from any other young person on the base. An air of self-doubt had rapidly settled on the very young Hellboy, who began to realize that it wasn't _only_ him that noticed changes. A few others on the BPRD base had openly gawked at him, even those who'd had a hand in his life growing up. Noting his young adopted son's incredible complex that had developed due to self-judgment and the scrutiny of others, Professor Bruttenholm had gently suggested one day that maybe he try grinding the horns down, purely for comfort reasons.

He'd never looked back.

He smoothed one jagged horn down into a smooth, flat disc of red within a few minutes, and replaced the high-grit sanding pad with a new one before moving to the next. His stomach growled, reminding him that Charlie would soon be over, food in tow. His mind remained on her as he attempted to smooth out a particularly jagged edge, remembering her open fascination at his right hand. Her fascination with him hadn't made him feel uneasy, as he'd occasionally experienced from curious people, even as an adult. He allowed himself to think about how she'd probably been intrigued by the vast differences between him and a "normal" person, and imagined briefly what it would be like to have her run her fingers over the flat stubs on his head, as she'd done to his hand. The thought caused him to involuntarily shudder, the grinder jumping in his hand, sparks flying from the crooked edge. He shook his head, continuing on his mission to get them at least marginally even.

Finally satisfied, he quickly swept up the red dust from the bathroom floor, retreating to his bedroom to pull a black BPRD issued tshirt over his head. He sat on the bed, his weight causing the mattress to dip slightly as he pulled black socks on over his cloven hooves. "Don't move on account of me," he sarcastically greeted Shortstack, currently sleeping in the center of the bed. The cat heaved a great stretch, curling into a tight ball around his own legs in reply.

A soft series of knocks floated down the hall from the living room. "_There_ she is," he smiled slightly, giving the large cat a jostling pat on the belly as he made his way to answer the door.

He looked through the peephole for a moment, seeing nobody on the other side of the door. Curious, he pulled the door open quietly, sticking his head out into the hall. He glanced around, spotting her twenty yards down on the other side of the hallway, standing on tiptoes to peer curiously into the glass window of the door to the gym.

"Anything interesting happening in there?" he spoke easily, leaning against the frame of the door. He observed in amusement as his sudden presence caused her to jump slightly.

"Jeez, you scared me!" she breathed, laughing. She turned to walk back toward him, two plastic bags jostling about on her arm.

"Who knocks and then just walks away from the door like that?" he goaded her, crossing his arms as she came to stand directly in front of him.

"To be fair, I knocked probably about three times," she replied, the plastic bags rustling. "I was beginning to think I had the wrong World War II tank-building… building."

He smiled, looking down at her. "Ah, sorry about that. I was holed up in the bathroom… Been a few days overdue for a shave," he answered, running the back of his hand over his cheek and chin satisfyingly.

"Can I come in? I brought dinner," she offered as she held up the plastic bags on her arms.

"Oh, well I was hopin' we could just eat out here in the hall," he answered smartly, shrugging.

"Get real," she laughed, lightly smacking him with her free hand.

"Alright... you can come in. But _only_ because you brought food with you."

"Thanks," she answered wryly, brushing along the front of him slightly as he stepped aside to let her in.

He closed the door behind them, watching as she looked around the room with fascination, Al Green beginning to lament on Love and Happiness in the background.

"Al Green on vinyl? Pretty smooth, there, Red," she smirked.

"Who said I was tryin' to be smooth?" he asked, taking the plastic bags from Charlie, placing them on the breakfast bar dividing the kitchen from the living room.

"I never said you were trying," she laughed in answer.

"...Because I don't have to try, I just _am_."

"No comment," she smiled, propping her hip against the back of the couch, watching as he attempted to untie a bag. "I hope you like Thai, by the way."

"Of course, I do. I even like the American facsimiles of Thai food. It's all good as far as I'm concerned," he answered, inhaling the delicious aroma of curry and coconut emanating from the styrofoam containers.

"Nice digs you've got, here," she mentioned, tearing her eyes away from the living room to help him untie the second bag. "Pretty spacious."

"Thanks," he replied, scratching the back of his neck. "Want a quick tour? There's not all that much to see, so it won't take long."

"Sure," she answered.

"Alright, so this is the kitchen…"

"_Is it_? Wow. I was wondering what it was," she raised her brow, failing to hide her laughter.

"Can it, _smartass_," he retorted, daring to reach out and lightly tug on her blonde ponytail, tied off to the side of her face. She rolled her eyes, her cheeks growing slightly pink as he moved away from the counter. "Come with me."

He led her through the living room, briefly pointing out to the patio and ladder to the rooftop on the other side of the sliding glass doors. He took her all the way down the hall to his slightly cluttered spare room on the righthand side, not bothering to dwell on it. On the left side of the hall, he opened the door to the aforementioned bathroom.

"Jesus! I could live in here, it's huge!" she'd exhaled in wonder, looking around at the calm, cool interior of the room, gawking at the large, glass-walled shower and the oversized tub. "You even have the toilet in its' own separate little room… Pretty luxe, Red."

He shook his head in amusement as she stepped into the glass case of the shower, slightly swinging her arms around her as if to prove her point of its' spaciousness.

"Well, I'm not exactly physically built to reside in cramped spaces," he began. "_Especially_ not in a room as important as the bathroom."

"You've got a point, there," she answered, inspecting the retro-style shower faucet. After a few moments of admiration, she reluctantly peeled herself out of the shower stall, sighing wistfully. "_Highly_ jealous of you, by the way. Alright, next."

He smirked, crossing the hall again, pushing the last door open. "And this is my room, not that I really sleep much, lately."

She peered in almost shyly from the threshold, glancing at the simple black furnishings and flat screen television hanging on the wall, until she spotted the lazy brown tabby on the dark grey comforter in the middle of the large bed.

"You have a _cat_?" she asked, large eyes flying up to his.

"Yeah, that's Shortstack," he answered her. As if he knew he was being talked about, Shortstack rose from his place on the bed, hopping off to stretch out, trotting right toward Charlie's legs. "What am I, chopped liver, buddy?"

Charlie crouched down, ruffling the instantly adoring tabby's fur. "Well aren't you the most _handsome _thing ever," she complimented the cat, who Hellboy could hear purring from his spot a few feet away. She hefted him up in her arms as he butted his head against hers. She looked up at Hellboy in disbelief, eyes gleaming in happiness.

"He _clearly_ hates you as much as you hate him," he mused.

"I can't believe you have a _cat_ and didn't _tell_ me."

"Hey, I had to make sure you'd come over to hang out on your own volition before I mentioned the fuzzy company I keep," he joked. "Can't have people using me willy-nilly for my cat."

She smiled slightly, placing the content Shortstack back on the ground. "Well, I'm definitely not here just for the cat. Though he _is_ an added bonus."

He returned her smile, his stomach protesting in hunger. "Good. Let's go break open that Thai."

-o-

They had settled in with their plates in the living room. Hellboy was already on his second plate, heaping over with Pad Thai and Panang Curry, attempting carefully not to spill on the couch.

Charlie sat cross-legged on the floor next to the couch with a steaming bowl of Tom Kha. "I'm glad you like the food. I didn't know what you'd want," she shrugged. "So I picked up a bit of everything."

"Thanks so much, Charlie. I don't keep a whole lot of food around the house, since I'm rarely here, anyway. Do I owe you anything?"

She shook her head vehemently, blowing on a spoonful of the coconut lemongrass broth. "Absolutely not. Plus, I actually get paid next Monday, so I'm pre-emptively spending my paycheck on food, which is nothing new for me."

"So how was your _thrilling_ day with Randall?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. He was curious to hear her thoughts on the man, if they echoed his own.

She scrunched her face up. "It was painfully boring. And draining. He's kind of a pompous jerk," she answered. "I mean, he was plenty nice to _me_, but I could tell he thinks he's a big deal. The only good part was getting to meet some of the interns who had to watch the trainings, too. I recognized a couple of them from around my university campus, so it was nice to talk with them on break."

"Oh?" he asked, relieved that she hadn't been swayed by Randall's false charm. "And they are…?"

"Uh, Pete Yen, Jordan Patel, and Sean Booker. There was also a girl, Margot O'Neill, but she seemed like she'd rather snort saltwater than talk to me, so…"

"Margot…Margot. She have red hair?"

"Yeah… tall, skinny redhead… you know her?" she questioned. "Pete and Jordan said they hadn't even met you last semester… said you were out on a few long missions, so they never got the chance."

"Margot. Yeah, I remember her. She field assisted on a run to Jaipur last year. Seemed... nice, but took to following me around like a puppy dog after a while, which got a little tedious."

Charlie gave a short laugh. "Explains why she wouldn't even talk to me…"

"Maybe," he shrugged nonchalantly, trying to hold back from devouring everything on his plate in a few bites.

"Kinda flattering, if you ask me," she needled him. "She looked ready to throw me down when I mentioned that my position tied directly to you. She must've really had it bad for you. I'd imagine you might get that a lot, though, working in such close proximity to people, like you do."

"Glad to know you think so highly of my ability to attract admirers, Charlie," he joked, as she fake-curtseyed at him from the ground.

"Y'know... it's always strange to me, trying to sort out the women who express interest in me," he continued, momentarily forgetting his food. "Because they fall across the board into so many different categories."

"Such as?"

"Well, at the bottom of the list are those who truly may have a genuine interest in me as a person, few and far in-between. Then there are the Margots of the world, who I think may only _think_ they like me because of my status, and position. And _then_, there are the weird fetishists who approach me and proposition me on the street simply because they're interested in my… unconventional outward appearance."

"Sounds to me like you get hit on a lot," she smirked, rising from the floor and walking back to the kitchen.

"Yeah, not as often as you'd think, and _rarely_ by any type I'd consider," he answered. He turned his head to see Charlie lost in thought as she contemplated a container of Pad Thai. "...Not that someone in my delicate position could afford to be picky, obviously. It's just that I'm rarely intrigued enough by anybody to even consider a relationship beyond platonic. But I'm sure you'd agree with me that I'm too damn old to be considering women who only express interest in me for their own shallow reasons, anyway."

"It's probably not that you're too old, because I'm the exact same way," she replied. "I'll be damned if I let any man into my life again simply on the grounds that he's physically attracted to me. I mean, of course, that's an important part of being with someone, and I would hope that a potential prospect _would_ find me attractive, at least a _little_, but I'd like to think I have more to offer than that."

"Well, I think that much is obvious, but…" he trailed off.

"But what?"

"But, forgive me if I find it hard to believe that any man could find you only '_a little_' physically attractive," he finished before he could stop himself.

"Why Hellboy, are you flirting with me?" she questioned playfully from the kitchen, eating a twisted forkful noodles directly out of the container.

"Just... making an observation," he stated, shrugging.

_What, are you turning into Abe, now? How did we even get on this path of conversation?_

"...I'm not drunk enough to be talking this candidly. That is to say, not at all," he continued, standing from his seat.

"I'm sure that's easily resolved," she quipped, closing up the containers and attempting to maneuver them into his fridge. "You _certainly_ have enough damn beer in here to get an army wasted twice over."

"There's booze in the cabinet above the fridge. Help yourself," he replied, bringing his plate to the sink. He took his time rinsing the plate off, smirking inwardly at what he knew was coming next. He whistled a bar of the Al Green song playing, before turning to see her looking frustrated, arms crossed.

"Well, where's your drink, Charlie?"

She shook her head. "It's in the cabinet above the fridge, which is about _nine feet off the ground_, thank you," she replied, swatting at him as he gave a deep chuckle.

He pulled the cabinet open himself, having well over a foot advantage on her. "Sorry. I get a kick out of making short people feel inadequate."

"You're... the worst," she retorted lamely, half-pouting.

"Ooh, _burn,_" he replied, pulling out an already half-empty bottle of wheat whiskey. "I've got poisons of all kinds, but considering your ilk, I think you might like this little number, kiddo."

"Perfect," she replied, inspecting the bottle as he placed two glasses of ice on the counter. "Y'know, I _really_ can't wait to hear more candid gems from you this evening."

"I'm full of 'em," he shrugged, watching as she poured the whiskey into the glasses. "You're lucky I'm willing to share them with you, given that I was under the impression that you were only coming over here to check out my _amazing_ collection of books and artifacts from Indonesia."

"Yeah, sure, like I'm gonna _waste_ a free night poring over things I could just as easily look at while I'm on the clock at work," she answered, echoing the words of his subconscious from days before. She leaned back against the counter, smiling as she took a sip of the whiskey, making a small contented noise before continuing. "It was a good initial excuse to come over, but… I'm here because... you're my friend, who I _feel_ like I've known forever, even though I don't really know you all that well."

"Well, that can be easily remedied. I've been told before by Abe that I'm an open book, so…"

"You don't really strike me as an open book," she answered.

"I'm usually not _wide_ open, but... I think I _can_ be, with people I care about. Since I happen to include _you_ under that umbrella, I guess it applies in that respect." He gave a slight grimace as he gulped down half the whiskey, internally wondering why was volunteering the vulnerable information coming out of his mouth now, things he hadn't even realized until that moment.

She struggled to keep the smile from her face, partly from the warm buzz that always resulted from the first few sips of alcohol, but mostly because he was speaking with more candor than she'd ever gotten out of him. She looked down into the drink, not caring that she was beaming like an idiot. "Well, thanks. That goes both ways, too. Y'know… the whole '_open book_' thing."

They shared a moment of comfortable silence side by side in the kitchen, Charlie still attempting to twist her mouth into a neutral position as she applied a lip balm she'd extracted from the pocket of her raspberry-colored hoodie. He drained his drink, walking over to his duster on the back of the couch, feeling around in his pockets for a cigar.

"Hey, you, uh...wanna see the roof?" he grinned, looking at her.

"Sure," she replied, laughing, following suit by emptying her cup of all but the ice before setting it on the counter.

They exited out onto the small patio area, Hellboy throwing on his duster in the cool, foggy night, stuffing the bottle of whiskey in the jacket's inner pocket. The sky had grown fully dark, save for the yellowed lights dotting along the side of the building and the adjacent walkway, which dimly lit up the area, reflecting off the fog.

"Ladies first," he gestured at the sturdy-looking mounted ladder on the side of the building. She smiled nervously, sighing as she braced her hands on the ladder, beginning her ascent.

"Not scared, are you?" he asked, getting on the ladder right behind her.

"Not _scared_, just... unsure of how I'll be getting down after drinking more whiskey up there," she answered over her shoulder.

"There's a stairway that leads down into the building hall if you really need it," he answered. "_Or_ I can just carry you down over my shoulder. Either way, you'll be fine."

She was glad he couldn't see her flush in embarassment at his mention of carrying her.

The climb up the ladder was only two stories, but she couldn't help feeling relieved anyway once she made it to flat surface on the roof. A few lawn chairs were strewn about, as well as a door that she surmised led to the building stairs he'd mentioned. She contemplated sitting on one of the dirty lawn chairs until Hellboy pulled himself up the ladder after her, immediately walking over to the opposite side of the building roof and sat, dangling his feet over the ledge, as if he did it every day.

"Come over here," he called over his shoulder, patting the ground next to him with his stone hand. She nervously shuffled over to the edge, peering over to find not a two story drop, but a six foot drop down to a sizable secondary roof. Relieved she wouldn't be dangling her feet over the cement ground below, she stooped herself down to sit directly next to him as he pulled out a book of matches from his pocket.

"I take it you don't smoke in any capacity," he said, biting the tip off the cigar he'd tucked behind his ear.

"No, not since undergrad," she admitted, shaking her head. "Even then, I never understood the appeal of tobacco, the few times I tried it. I mainly stuck with the college party staple. You know, summer trips to Amsterdam, '_reefer'_. But it's been... ages."

"You're smart, good for you. I quit a few years back. _Cigarettes_, that is. _Those_ are what get you hooked."

"But cigars are much better?" she asked wryly.

"Somehow, I don't feel the need to smoke cigars quite as often," he replied, brow knit together as he struck a match. The yellow glow lit the space between them, reflecting a bright glint in his golden eyes as they sought hers. He brought the flame to the brown Cuban dangling loosely on his lips, drawing in breath as the fire caught on the cigar's dry tip. "The buzz from smoking one decent cigar can last me all week, so it works fine. I found that for the longest time, I was just a slave to my worst vices, like cigarettes and so forth, so I try to... _abstain _every so often, for lack of a better word. Defy my given image of personified sin, as it were."

He pulled the bottle of whiskey out of his pocket, smiling with the irony of his previous words as he uncapped the bottle before handing it to Charlie, who accepted it gently. She put the bottle to her lips, taking a few small sips as they chatted idly about work for a few moments, laughing about the ridiculously outdated safety and standard procedure videos she'd had to endure.

"_This_ is something I haven't done since college, either. Drinking straight from the bottle, that is," she remarked, holding the bottle toward him.

"Pretty classy, huh?" he smirked, accepting it from her, taking a swig. He didn't fail to notice the lingering vanilla apricot flavor of her lip balm on the rim of the bottle, now clinging to his lips.

"This is a surprisingly nice view," she remarked, looking out at the neighboring area, and barely beyond to downtown.

"Yeah, It's why I chose this building to live in from the ones available. Nice roof. Not too many tall buildings on campus, but it's the tallest aside from the main building." He remembered his cigar, forgotten after the discovery of the intoxicating traces of lip balm. He wiped his lower lip lightly with his right thumb, bringing the cigar back up for a drag.

He looked over to see Charlie looking out in the distance, absentmindedly palming the painite amulet around her neck. "That thing giving you any trouble?"

"Not at all," she shook her head, looking up at him. "That weird scar thing from the other day is almost completely gone, too. Stone still feels warm to the touch though. I think it means she's alright, wherever she is."

"I'll see if Maggie has any sources that can shed further light on what the hell it is, or how it's supposed to help us get Kate back."

"Definitely," she smiled, taking another drink from the bottle. "Y'know, call me crazy, but… I kind of got the feeling from Agent Sapien this morning that the reason he might be so distraught is… he might think of Aunt Kate as more than… '_just a friend'_, you know?"

"Funny you mention it; I was thinking it could be something along the exact same lines earlier today," he replied, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "Just the way his demeanor changed after he heard my full account and read over my incident report yesterday afternoon. Like it flipped some sort of switch in him. He can be grumpy sometimes, but _this… _this is an Abe I haven't seen in a while."

"He'll come around, I'm sure," she replied. After a moment of silence, she glanced at him hesitantly. "Would you be… upset if he were thinking about Aunt Kate in that way?"

"Are you trying to ask me if I still have feelings for your aunt again? Could have sworn I answered that already," he mused, raising a brow at her.

"I know, I know. Just wondering," she shrugged. "Apparently, relationships between coworkers seem to be… not uncommon at the Bureau, from what Agent Randall said, prior to showing everyone the 'Sexual Harassment In The Workplace' video."

"Oh yeah? What _else_ did Randall have to say for himself in that vein?" he asked, failing to keep the contempt from his voice.

"You're really not a big fan of his, are you?" she asked, laughing.

"Not exshactly. What gave it away?" he quipped, biting into his cigar.

"Why is that, if you don't mind my asking?"

He glanced at her, considering her question momentarily. _You_ did _say 'open book', buddy,_ came the voice in his head. He sighed, holding back a groan.

"We really _don't_ have to talk about this," she continued, shaking her head. "if you don't-"

"No, no. It's- it's good to talk about it, I think. About six years back, I had a… _girlfriend," _he began, trying to frame it as best he could without allowing residual bitterness to seep into his tone. His brows drew together again in concentration, grounding out his cigar before he sighed, continuing. "...Who I'd been with for quite some time. _Liz_... was her name."

He looked at Charlie, who gave him a tight smile, nodding at him to continue.

"So Liz and I… had been out of the so-called 'honeymoon stage' of the relationship for about a year at that point. Liz is a pyrokinetic, see… and we were always arguing for one reason or another. Anyway, _Randall, _who for all his talk about being an amazing husband and father, had, and probably _still_ has, a notoriously wandering eye. Caught him more than once staring a bit too long at her from across the conference room. I didn't think anything of it, since I knew Liz was just as disgusted by him as I was, maybe even more so… She may have broken my heart, but she wouldn't have ever strayed, or anything.

"My dislike for Randall changed from mild to intense this one day, when… and I'll never forget it… I was passing him in the hall when he stopped me, saying we had to have an 'HR talk' and could I duck into his office for a moment. See, Randall's never been a fan of yours truly, either. Talks shit about me when I'm not around to hear it, which is no skin off my nose, but when you bring my relationships into it, _that's_ when I'm done. So in his office he informs me that there's been complaints regarding the recent nature of Liz and my relationship, and I won't deny we'd been bickering pretty often at that point. I guess constant fighting with a pyrokinetic can sometimes lead to... small office fires that require use of many fire extinguishers, but that's besides the point. I apologized, let him know that we would leave the arguing to the privacy of the domicile, blah blah blah.

"_Then_ he starts in with the creepy interrogation, framing it like he's just some curious acquaintance, asking me questions. Starts asking me about if I feel like I'm unusually lucky, given that someone as beautiful as Liz would ever give someone like me the time of day, do I feel like I could ever measure up to the type of man a girl like her would normally be with, _should_ be with, all this bullshit. _Then_ he starts to reason that she probably only loved me because she was a fire-starter, and no normal man in his right mind could want damaged goods like that. I couldn't answer to any of it… His tone was just so laced with prejudice and _hate_, obviously trying to drive home the fact that he thinks I'm a freak of nature who doesn't deserve love of any kind from anyone, which is what I'd spent years of my own life thinking, prior to that. So, I did what any rational person would do... I threw him through the glass door of his office."

He took a long gulp of the whiskey. "And _that_ is why I don't like Eric Randall."

"That douchebag got off easy, if that's all you did to him," she said quietly, placing her cold hand on his right arm. He could feel her hand shaking, and looked up to see the anger in her eyes. "I mean, I could tell he was a pompous jerk, but that's just… shit, that's disgusting behavior. How is he still _working_ there?"

"He knows the right people," he shrugged. "Besides, none of the conversation was documented aside from security footage of him getting thrown through the door. Which I have saved as a file on my computer somewhere… I watch it whenever I need a good laugh. Anyway, lack of evidence that he'd been goading me into throwing him meant that Manning suspended me from field work for six months for that little stunt. Which was for the best probably, as Liz and I didn't last for too long following the incident, and I ended up taking a leave of absence anyway. We... would've crumbled whether or not Randall had jabbed at me like that. But at that time, his comments sent me right over the edge of sanity."

"He's probably one of those people whose talent lies in knowing precisely how to hit you where it hurts," she nodded. "And get away with doing it."

"Exactly," he replied. He felt oddly lighter, as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders through him telling the story. He hadn't spoken of the incident in detail for probably what had been years, and the release of information to an open ear felt indescribably good. Also admitting that his and Liz's relationship had had an expiration date on it was oddly liberating.

"..._Still_ doesn't exactly answer my question of if you'd be upset if Abe had feelings for Aunt Kate," she smiled into her lap.

He sighed, stealing a glance at Charlie. "Jeez, you really _are_ just as nosy as Abe. Alright, I'll give it to you straight: I _love_ your aunt, _really_ I do, and I always will, but our relationship is currently platonic, and has been so for going on twenty-five years now, and will continue to be. It just wasn't ever in the cards for us. And if Abe were to have feelings for Katie, or vice versa, I'd just be happy that they'd found someone to love. Hell, getting laid would probably do the fish man some good, anyway."

Charlie bust out in surprised laughter.

"Shit. Sorry if that was crass. I forget that we're talking about your aunt, here," he apologized.

"No," she replied, still chuckling. "Aunt Kate could probably do with a little action herself. She seemed wound pretty tight before she left for Tunisia. I'm _totally_ setting them up on a date when we get her back. Besides, crass as it may be, you speak the truth. It's a little true for pretty much everyone, to be honest."

"Ehh, celibacy isn't so bad," he began, draining the bottle all but a tiny bit. He handed the remainder to Charlie. "... Alright, that was a lie. It's pretty bad. But I'm good at it, and it keeps me good at what I do. It's the reason why I'm able to constantly throw myself head-first into every case I go on. When sex is part of the equation, I'm not quite as sharp on my toes as I usually should be."

"Are you telling me that you intend to live the rest of your life as a monk for as long as you work at the Bureau?" she asked, raising her brow as she finished the last of the whiskey.

He shrugged. "I sure hope not, but... It's just been so long since I was last... _with_ someone, I can't even begin to remember how it's done."

"I believe the expression is that it's like riding a bike," she smiled. "Even after a long time, you're supposed to just…"

"Get back on and ride?" He smiled as her helpless laugh filled the air once more.

"I was only gonna say 'remember how it's done', but I guess that works, too," she reasoned, laughter reducing down to a knowing smile. "So, it's uh… been a while for you, then?"

"_Ages. _Not since a certain regrettable _one-night_ thing that happened soon after Liz and I broke up," he answered, surprised at her audacity to initiate such a frank conversation. He wasn't shy about the subject, and secretly wondered if she would answer in kind. "Not exactly my finest moment...You?"

"Two years," she shrugged, the dim light barely covering the pink hue creeping up her neck. "You're right, though. Sometimes it's easier to tell yourself to just... forget about sex and all the drama that comes with it. And unfortunately for _me_, I'm not one of those lucky people who can just throw caution to the wind and sleep with whoever I please with no residual feelings, as much as I sometimes wish I could."

He cleared his throat in answer. "Yeah… me neither. The one time was enough to learn that lesson. Someone always ends up getting attached. And if it's not _you_, it's other person. Messy. Nobody wins."

She nodded. "Relationships are hard."

"_Tell_ me about it."

They sat in silence for a few moments more, side by side. She lightly shivered at the chill breeze stirring up around her. He observed her with concern, and against his better judgment, he placed his arm around her shoulder, pulling her against him in the hopes that she'd warm up. She responded accordingly, leaning her head against his massive shoulder and sighed audibly as he ran his large thumb comfortingly up and down along her shoulder. It took everything in his power to not lean in to more fully take in the scent of her flowery hair. He was toeing the line as it was, already.

He'd had a couple female friends over the years with which he'd acted in this way, the platonic touchy-feely comforting thing that stoic, caring men from the movies often did for the women they cared about. _Most of those female friends of yours _have_ ended up in your bed, though, given enough time, _his nagging internal voice reminded him. This was the part where, would he have dared to turn his head toward her, and lift her chin toward this face, pulling her slowly to him for a searing kiss, as his body was hinting to him that he _should_ be responding… _Then_ they'd be in _real_ trouble, especially given the nature of their last spoken words.

_It's the alcohol talking, that's all, don't be weak enough to listen, _he rationalized. _Besides, it's _Charlie_, for Chrissakes. Katie's niece. You couldn't do it now if you _wanted _to. Katie would kill you dead. You would probably get pushed away, anyway… _

Next to him, Charlie felt as though all the blood in her body had been immediately directed toward her face as her red rooftop companion pulled her confidently into his shoulder, gently gliding his hand over her arm. She knew it was his chivalrous attempt to make her stop shivering, for she'd been careless enough to only wear a light zip hoodie out instead of a full-on jacket.

But at the moment, she was torn between regretting her stupidity, and being thankful for it. If she'd worn anything otherwise, she wouldn't be privy to the knowledge that his arms were absolutely perfect instruments of warmth and comfort, even with the bulk of his right hand. She gave a small, content sigh, knowing she probably could have fallen asleep right there, with his arm around her on the roof, were it not for the simple fact that he smelled _so damn good_, like sandalwood and fresh pine, not to mention that it was _him_ sitting zero inches away from her.

_Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck,_ her brain repeated, pulse pounding with realization. _You like him. You _like _him!_

_As if that's new information_, she argued internally, resigning herself to her attraction. _You were toast the minute he peeled that shirt off in the kitchen three weeks ago; don't even deny it._

Even with the thought that his gesture was platonic, and that it wasn't even the first time he'd attempted to comfort her in one way or another, she found herself wishfully thinking that she were brave enough to do something wildly stupid, and kiss the damn guy or something. A nervous shudder ran through her at the thought of being so bold. But as quickly as the thought came, it thankfully faded as he made to reluctantly pat her arm, stretching upward before making to stand on his feet.

"Let's get you inside before you freeze," he said down to her, offering out his hand to help her up.

_Not shivering because of the temperature anymore, but thank you_, she thought, shakily accepting his outstretched hand. She allowed herself to be pulled up, bringing the glass bottle with her.

"Think you can handle the ladder?" he asked, taking the bottle from her and stashing it in his pocket.

"I think I should be alright," she replied, surprised to have found her voice.

"Good. I'll head down first, just in case."

They got down the majority of the ladder without incident, until Charlie was two feet off the ground and her foot missed a rung, stumbling backwards off the ladder into his waiting arms.

"Had a feeling that would happen," he chuckled as she turned in his light hold on her, not stopping himself from tucking a stray lock of hair that had escaped her ponytail behind her ear. "Just glad it happened down here, and not further up there."

"You're telling me," she smiled nervously, patting his arm in thanks as she turned to pull the glass door open and slipping back inside, not wanting him to catch her embarrassment at slipping. _Get it together, Adler_, she shook her head, gently massaging her temple.

"You alright?" he asked, coming in after her, noting her actions as he opened the refrigerator to grab a beer for himself. "Want something else? Water, or something?"

"Sure, thank you. I'll take one of those, too," she gave a half-smile, flicking her head toward his beer. She kicked her shoes off by the sliding door, shuffling her feet against the hardwood floor.

"Charlie's having a _beer _with me? Woah. You see something new every day," he joked, setting a cup of filtered water in front of her, grabbing another beer out of the fridge door.

"I never said I didn't like beer. Besides, like _you_, if I hit my liquor limit, I'll have a beer instead," she shrugged, previous feelings of awkwardness all but dissolved. "Liquor before beer, in the clear."

"Beer before liquor, never sicker," he finished, cracking the crowns off two bottles of IPA. "I dunno, you seem pretty together to me… sure you're at your limit?"

"If you're thinking of the first time we drank together, that was a _glaring_ exception to my usual consumption rule," she stated, catching the beer he slid across the counter. Al Green was still crooning in the background, the horn section in _Here I Am (Come And Take Me)_ lightly flaring up. "I was stupid drunk that night. I think I was pretty hard up for a drink after the initial shock of finding out that Aunt Kate wasn't where she was supposed to be. An idea that I'm scarily used to, by now. Anyway, I _usually_ try to keep my wits about me when drinking."

He pulled off his coat as he walked to the record player, which had finally begun to spin in silence. He shut it off as she took a seat on one of the two couches. He collapsed beside her on the same couch, sitting a respectable distance away as they drank their beers.

"Thanks for putting up with my nosiness about Randall earlier," she smiled, peeling the label nervously off her bottle.

"You're welcome, though I should be thanking _you_ for listening. I didn't realize it would be so therapeutic to talk that nonsense through. Hell, I feel like with all the airing of grievances I just did, I could be _friends_ with Randall, now."

"Really?"

"Nope," he shook his head.

She laughed, and he watched as she bit her lip, still scraping at the glue under the label.

"Can _I_ ask you something now?" he asked.

"Of course," she nodded openly, turning her body on the couch to face him, her knee inches from his leg.

"What's your family like?"

She smiled, immediately launching into a description of her aloof but loving father John, and her stepmother Cecelia, who was well-meaning, but still occasionally attempted to set Charlie up with the sons of her friends, despite her protests and the simple fact that she lived on the other side of the continent from where they lived in California. She spoke at length on her brother, Kyle, who had just began his sophomore year in high school. She pulled her phone out of her pocket to display to him a picture of her, tightly hugging a younger blonde boy in a cap and gown.

"That was his eighth grade graduation a few years back. He's basically my pride and joy," she nodded, glancing fondly at the picture on the phone screen. "My little bunch of Kale, I call him. I actually had a huge hand in raising him, since my dad had next to no idea of what to do with a toddler after mom died. And CeCe... well, bless her for _trying_, once she came into the picture, but she isn't really the sharp-shooting, diaper-changing type of woman that my mom was."

"Your mom sounds a lot like her sister," he replied, not wishing to stir up any upsetting memories within her. She simply smiled in reply, looking wistful.

"Mom was the _best_. I miss her every day. Thankfully even CeCe realized that she could never replace her in my life. We've been fortunate enough to get along in that way."

"Losing a parent is one of the hardest things in this plane of existence," he agreed quietly.

She nodded, scooting in closer to him. "Can you… tell me about your dad? If you want to? I've always heard nothing but amazing things over the years. I can only imagine you knew him best of anyone."

He acquiesced, spending the rest of the evening and the next few beers relating stories of his youth, ranging all the way up to Trevor Bruttenholm's early departure. She was a great audience for his direct and frank form of storytelling, laughing when appropriate, and asking a few clarifying questions here and there. He tried to ignore the way she seemed to be inching slowly toward him, before realizing that he was subconsciously leaning toward her, as well. By the time he'd nearly run out of anecdotes, they were sitting flush against one another, her right hand absentmindedly brushing against the back of his left hand on the side of her leg.

Before he knew it, she'd pulled her usual trick of falling asleep in the comfort of his presence, though this time, she'd leaned right over onto him, her hands somehow wrapped around his arm, making it difficult for him to stand up without disturbing her. He contemplated staying planted and watching her, unworried in sleep as her eyes twitched beneath their lids. He moved a stray lock of hair away from her face, sighing at the sight of what he didn't fully understand he'd been selfishly coveting for the past few hours. He didn't fully know how to make heads or tails of the surge of feelings the young woman had brought to light, but he immediately resolved to suppress them, knowing that he wouldn't be able to do anything about them, for a while yet.

Figuring it wouldn't be fair to remain all night without her permission, he finally did manage after several moments to extract himself from her warmth, instantly missing the contact once free. He guided her head smoothly toward a couch cushion, draping a knit blanket over her curled up body as he quietly shuffled to the mouth of the hall.

He watched as Shortstack slinked into the room quietly. The cat jumped up next to Charlie, curling tightly in a ball to settle in for the night with her, one eye open as he watched his owner intently.

"Showoff," Hellboy muttered under his breath toward the nearly-sleeping feline, as he set off for his room to do the very same.


	8. Chapter 8

_Hey, dear readers! A big thank you to everyone who has read, followed, faved, and/or reviewed so far! Every time I get an alert in my inbox, it's like a baby angel is making me weep by playing a song of sheer happiness on a harp. Or something like that._

_Next chapter will finally have some time jumps, so I can progress the story beyond just days at a time. But for now, a short-ish (for me) chapter regarding the best meal of the day, breakfast._

_Much Love! 'Til next chapter! -S.A._

* * *

Though he slept soundly through the night, Hellboy was jerked out of a relatively deep sleep by the feeling of something cold touching his face. He cracked open an eye to find Shortstack sitting on his chest, hesitantly pawing him on the nose.

"Oh, I see how it is," he said quietly to the needy feline. "So you sleep with _her_, but wake _me_ up when you're hungry, like I'm the hired help. Nice."

He groaned, sitting upright and throwing his legs over the side of the bed. A glance at the digital clock on his nightstand read 6:45 a.m.

"'Least you let me sleep in," he glanced at the impatient cat, now waiting for him by the door. He followed Shortstack into the spare room where his food was, heaping a cupful into the pitifully empty bowl. The cat meowed out his thanks, purring as he inhaled his breakfast.

Leaving the cat to his food, he crept silently down the hall, glimpsing around the corner to find Charlie also recently awake, sitting upright on the couch, appearing to have been working out the kinks in her back. Her dark blonde hair had been loosened from the hair tie she'd had it in the night previous; it fell slightly wavy around her face, tousled from sleep. Her hooded jacket lay abandoned on the floor next to her, and he failed to ignore its' absence as her full chest became more pronounced as she arched forward against her loose, light grey shirt with the action of the stretches. She gave a small groan of satisfaction, the small sound nearly eliciting his half-awake mind to descend into fully indecent territory.

_Quit leering, you slack-jawed dope,_ he thought to himself, looking away from her innocent stretch as he attempted to shake his mind free from looming inappropriate thoughts. A good night's sleep had done little to quell his developing interest in her. Any attempt to blame the previous night's mental indiscretions on the factor of alcohol was futile, as even in his state of sobriety, he found himself fully in tune to her every little move.

"Morning," he cleared his throat quietly, not wanting to frighten her.

She opened her eyes, observing him standing in the mouth of the hallway. He wondered if he was imagining things, or if she really was allowing her gaze to travel appreciatively across his bare upper body and down his torso for a moment, when just as quickly she flicked her gaze back up to his face, giving a sheepish smile. "Morning," she answered in return.

"Sleep well?"

"Yeah, thank you. Sorry for crashing," she began as he walked toward her. "I meant to call a cab, but... Clearly that didn't happen."

"Yeah, you should be. You're _really_ cramping my style here, kid," he teased, dropping onto the other couch. "I see my cat certainly rolled out the welcome mat for you."

"He's a good snuggler," she agreed. "I do miss having animals."

"Feel free to come over and give him attention _anytime,"_ he replied. "Seriously. I'm not home enough to give him the amount he deserves. And that's sayin' something, because cats generally don't require a whole lot of it."

"Ever thought about getting him a friend?" She asked, as Shortstack slinked into the room, jumping beside Hellboy.

"Yeah. I used to have lots _more_, actually, but... it was too much. Sometimes I go back and forth on getting another. I'm sure when the time is right, it'll happen," he mused, stroking the purring cat from head to tail. "Hey, did you want coffee, or anything?"

She yawned, nodding vehemently. "I was actually thinking about going to grab some breakfast... Wanna come?"

"I hope you don't mean at the Bureau cafeteria, because..."

"No," she laughed. "Dr. Manning already warned me about the weekend kitchen staff. Sounds like an experience, but... I think I'll pass."

"Hmm." He ruminated on it, feeling some hesitation at the thought of venturing into the public realm so early in the day with her. Not that he wouldn't love to, but whenever he was in public with a woman friend, like Katie, or even back for the few short months he'd been public while still with Liz, people seemed to trade whispers. He felt uneasy about subjecting Charlie to that scrutiny so early in their friendship.

"It's this little place that's kinda close by, actually. I go most every saturday. I was just going to walk," she shrugged, eyes hopeful.

He chuckled a bit. "You're not talkin' about the Salt And Pepper Diner around the corner, are you?"

"I _am_, actually," she answered, surprised. "You know it?"

"Sure, I do. Used to go there all the time. Haven't been in months. Edna still there?"

Charlie laughed, rolling her eyes. "Of course she is. She'll be slinging that coffee pot 'til the day she dies. Maybe even after. I can't believe you go there, too!"

"Yeah, well, my day is usually Sunday. Y'know, while everyone's still in church." He looked over at her as he considered her request. She smiled brightly back as the last signs of sleepiness slipped off her face. "Alright, why the hell not? Edna'll read me the riot act for not having come around lately, but I could certainly go for some real, non-burnt pancakes."

"Good," she said simply, standing up and pulling her hoodie back on. "Let's go, then."

"Whoa, do I at least get to throw some on some decent clothes?" he joked, holding his arms outward as if to emphasize his bare form. He rose from the couch, walking toward his room. "Jeez, kid. Least you could do is let me get some real pants on."

"If you have to," she called after him, admiring the strong curvature of his muscled back as he retreated. She failed to keep a persisting grin from her face as she recalled bits and pieces of her dreams from the night previous. Though most of it had slipped through the cracks as her conscious mind warmed up upon waking, she still felt a tug in the pit of her stomach as she reflected on the moments she _did_ remember, all of which involved vast expanses of warm, red skin, and deft hands running over her shoulders, up around her sensitive neck, lacing through her hair. She bit her lip. Dream-Charlie had managed to be a little more bold than Waking-Charlie could or would ever hope to be, and hazily half-recalled being engaged in a stomach-twisting kiss… and that was it.

_Probably for the best_, she thought. _You're still only marginally acquainted with the guy. All you know is that he's doing the best he can to serve the common good… and that he's helpful… witty… charming, strong, though that goes without saying… I mean, those arms… guh._

_...Alright, this isn't helping._

She shook the thoughts from her head as he rolled into view, wearing black shorts and his overcoat. "Shall we?" he shrugged.

"I hear those home fries calling my name," she smiled, kicking her flats on and grabbing her bag as he held the front door open for her.

The morning air was cool and crisp, with residual fog from the evening prior still hanging low to the ground. At 7 a.m., the streets were eerily silent with the exception of the few cars that drove by them as they walked at a leisurely pace along the outer perimeter of the Bureau grounds, talking easily about various cases and missions on the Bureau's current agenda.

"We're gonna have to get you in the field sooner or later," he told her. "Make you a seasoned veteran."

"I know, I know. As long as I stick to research detail, I'm sure it'll be fine. But the prospect of eventually having to be in the _thick_ of it is just… terrifying," she wrinkled her nose. "Give me a bow and arrow, I'll arch the shit out of monsters. I dominated archery in summer camp as a kid, but… _Guns_ are daunting."

He laughed, imagining the petite woman wielding a hefty bow and arrow. "With you on that one. I'm more about the hand-to-hand, but I do carry a piece ninety percent of the time in the field, anyway."

"Are you any good?"

"Probably... the worst gun marksman in the Bureau," he shrugged. She laughed as he continued. "I can't be the best at _everything_. Don't discount that, though. I'm still fairly good. It's just that all other agents have gone through years of precision training, and I rarely practice. Abe's helped me a lot… he's a _real_ marksman. Could probably outshoot any human agent in the Bureau."

"Maybe I should have _him_ teach me," she thought aloud. "Might be nice to at least know how to safely handle a gun."

He smiled. "I'm headed into work later; I'll ask him if he'd be up for a trip to the range."

"You're working on a _Saturday_?" she asked as they walked up to the heavily windowed front of the Salt And Pepper Diner, which appeared nearly empty, save for a few patrons at the counter drinking coffee and reading newspapers.

"Bad guys don't take a day off," he shrugged, holding the door open for her. "Why should I?"

She smiled up at him, shaking her head. "You've got crazy work ethic. I hope the Bureau knows how lucky they are."

"Don't worry. I remind them all the time."

An older waitress with silvery hair tucked into a bun made her way from the back kitchen, pot of coffee in hand, eyes catching on the hard-to-miss red man waiting by the front door. "Well as I live and breathe, if it isn't the long-lost Hellboy," came her smoky, animated voice. She came to stand in front of him, one hand on the hip of her blue dress and spotless white apron. "We thought you'd died, you know. Seeing as how it's been so long since you last came in."

"Sorry about that, Edna," he answered sheepishly. "Been kinda swamped at work. You know how it is."

"Clearly I do," she remarked sarcastically, gesturing the coffee pot around the nearly empty diner.

She poked her head around his side, smiling at Charlie. "Morning, Charlie. Good to see you. Take a seat wherever, hon; I'll bring some coffee over."

"Hi Edna. I'm actually with _him_ today," she smiled, nodding toward Hellboy.

"Oh?" Edna replied, eyebrows raised, pronouncing the frosty blue shadow on her eyelids. She looked from Charlie to Hellboy, amusement playing in her eyes. "So you're acquainted, huh? Well in that case, grab a booth. I'm not expecting the morning rush for another half an hour. Shall I just assume the two of you will be having your usuals?"

"Yes, please," they both replied, nearly in unison.

"Great. I'll have it right up."

They slipped across from one another into a front booth, Charlie bouncing inward on the cushion.

"So, what's _your _usual?" he asked, unwrapping his silverware from its' napkin holster.

"Two eggs, poached, with sausage, home fries, and a side of wheat toast," she recited. "You?"

"Stack of pancakes, two sides of bacon," he shrugged, fiddling with the sugar packets. Edna brought a carafe of coffee over, setting two mugs down in front of them before walking away. He watched as Charlie lifted the carafe, tipping it over her mug. The coffee trembled in its' new vessel, dangerously close to the lip of the mug. She pulled a face with the realization she'd overfilled by a bit.

"You?" she asked, turning his mug over as he nodded. She poured the coffee diligently into his mug, taking care to stop an inch before the brim. She pulled her own mug close to her on the table, dipping her head to sip off the top few centimeters of coffee before it was safe to pick up from the table.

"So now that you've hopefully completed all the bullshit training videos, are you excited to start your first full week?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes, smiling. "More than ready, and _very_ excited to _finally_ work a day with you. Speaking of which, if it's alright with Abe, and you, too, I was hoping to use any free time this next week to get in contact with the members of the dig in Tunisia, see if I can squeeze any intel out of them, now that I've got _official_ jurisdiction as a research team member of the Bureau. Poor bastards. If they'd given me straight answers the first time, I wouldn't have to be bothering them again."

"Why would you have to run it by Abe?"

"Well... he _is _technically my boss," she smiled, arching a brow when surprise registered across his face. "Didn't you know that?"

"No," he replied. "He must be pretty proud of himself, though, his own employee, and all. In that case, though, would my opinion even make a difference?"

"Well, sure. You're kind of my go-to in regards to course of action. I wouldn't want to do anything you wouldn't," she replied.

"Besides," she shrugged, topping her coffee off. "I respect your opinion on the matter more than anyone's."

"I think it sounds like a great plan," he nodded. "One of them had to have seen something that could give a clue as to what happened."

An abrupt knock on the glass window interrupted their conversation, Charlie jumping in her seat. They both turned to see a short, stout older man with frazzled hair in a long coat and a Hawaiian shirt waving frantically at them through the glass.

"Is that...?"

"Dr. DeLeon? Yes." she replied, watching as the short man made his way in the front door. "All that talk about Indonesia... His ears must've been burning."

"Charlotte! And Mister Hellboy! What a surprise to see the both of you!" DeLeon jovially exclaimed, patting Hellboy on the back as he turned to address Charlie. "I've been meaning to congratulate you on your new position within the BPRD, love. Manning telephoned me to let me know. Very exciting stuff. How goes the search for dear Kate?"

"Thanks, Phil. Progressing, slowly but surely," she nodded. "Hellboy was just over there a few weeks ago, on that excavation site you'd been working on."

"I trust you set it right then, eh?" He asked, clapping him on the shoulder once more.

"You know me, Doc. I usually do," Red nodded, smiling tightly. A short, awkward silence ensued.

"...So, Doc, what brings you into the Salt And Pepper at so early an hour?" Hellboy finally asked.

"Well," he began animatedly. "I've come at the suggestion of my Teacher's Aide, who suggested we meet hither; I thought it only polite to inform you that he'll be along shortly, Charlotte, and you only need say the word to me, and I'll whisk him away elsewhere. If I'd any idea _you'd_ be here, I would have immediately vetoed his suggestion, the churlish imp."

"It's a free country, Phil. If Ian wants to eat here, he can eat here. It's not like I inherited the damn place in the breakup," Charlie laughed, though her undertones seemed slightly bristled.

_Ian? Charlie and DeLeon's assistant… dated?_

"Well, he should be round any minute, so I'd best rustle up some seats at the counter," he finished, waving his hand in departure. "It was lovely to see the both of you; don't be strangers, you know my office hours!"

She smiled grimly, not turning to watch him walk away. "Well, that was sufficiently awkward."

"Do you wanna get the food to go, or something?" he asked, concern growing as he observed her annoyed countenance.

"No, not at all. It's… well, I'll tell you after breakfast. Would you excuse me for a moment?"

"Sure," he replied as she stood, heading toward the ladies' room.

Hellboy sat alone at the table, watching as DeLeon took a seat at the counter, rustling a newspaper open. Less than a minute later, a young man with longish brown hair and glasses came through the door, carrying a briefcase and a stack of papers. DeLeon promptly stood, shaking the hand of the young man, presumably Ian, before leaning in toward him to whisper something in his ear, nodding conspicuously at the table where he sat. Ian immediately hastened a glance, only to be met with Hellboy's steely, guarded expression.

He might not have the full understanding of who Ian was, and what he had or hadn't meant to Charlie at one time, but he had a good enough idea.

After another moment, Charlie returned from the restroom, sliding into the booth across from him, right as Edna brought their plates over. From his spot, he observed as DeLeon's young friend stared intently over at her.

She looked up to smile at him, digging into her food. "Aren't you hungry?"

"Huh? Oh," he replied, beginning to cut up his bacon into small pieces. He stole a few more glances up at Ian, who seemed to be less involved in whatever the professor was telling him about, and more interested in the back of Charlie's head. Once he caught a whiff of the pancakes, his full attention turned to his plate as he placed the cut up bacon atop the stack of pancakes, drizzling everything with syrup.

"What are you doing?" She laughed, watching as he gathered a forkful of bacon and pancake.

"Tastes good," he managed between bites, shrugging.

"Can I try?" She asked, grinning deviously.

"As long as you don't make me try your weird lookin' eggs," he answered, eyeing the dish of jiggly white spheres.

"They aren't weird, they're _poached_. The best way an egg can be," she retorted, taking a bite of his bacon syrup pancake creation. "Holy crap, you're a _genius_; this is amazing," she said.

"Yeah, I figure that way you get a little bit of everything in every bite."

"I bet I could make actual bacon pancakes," she mused, reluctantly sliding his plate back to him.

He grinned deviously up at her. "You make pancakes?"

"You bet I do, among other things," she purred in a low tone, cocking a brow. "I'll have to make you dinner sometime. There's nothing better than cooking for friends. As long as they enjoy it, that is."

"Has anyone ever told you they didn't like your cooking?"

"Never," she pretended to be affronted. "Though I suppose there's a first time for everything. Do _you_ cook?"

"I make a killer bowl of hot buttered noodles," he smiled as she laughed openly.

They worked toward finishing their breakfast, Charlie taking a few more less-than-stealthy bites of his pancakes. Normally not one to share food, he found he didn't mind her foraging off his plate one bit. The small, intimate gestures made him feel as if they'd been friends for many years, as opposed to weeks. She smiled at him with fake guilt every time, a certain deviousness flashing across her face as he dared to throw a small kick at her her beneath the table, causing her to crack up, mouth full of pancake. She kicked back, bouncing her foot along his ankle for a moment, allowing it to linger for a moment before pulling it back.

Edna brought the bill over, and he shot Charlie a sharp look as she attempted to pull her wallet out of her bag.

"Not today," he said, throwing cash down on the table as they stood to leave.

He followed her out the front door, noticing her line of vision never straying from the path of trajectory, not even stealing a glance back at professor DeLeon, or her ex, who blatantly watched her walk out. HB shot a rather final suspicious glare at Ian, who immediately turned back around guiltily upon noticing he'd been caught.

They exited onto the street, falling right back into step with one another as they headed back to the Bureau campus. "Alright, so I know it's none of my business, but..."

"But what?" she asked.

"Shall I assume there's bad blood between you and DeLeon's young apprentice, there?"

"Oh, who; _Ian_?"

He nodded, watching as she stared straight ahead, sighing.

"There _used_ to be bad blood between us. Now, I just like to think that theres _nothing_ between us. I met him through DeLeon, if that wasn't obvious. We became pretty seriously involved for about a year and a half. Well, _I_ was, anyway. I think he was always threatened by my ambition, though. He overcompensated for his own shortcomings by trying to belittle me, act like my opinion was secondary. I still kind of can't believe after all that, it took him _cheating_ on me for me to finally stick a fork in the relationship.

"I spent almost the last two years following the breakup thinking that _h_e was the reason I have a hard time putting faith in people. Men, in particular. Why I have to take every compliment I receive with a huge grain of salt, and a hefty dose of sarcasm, or disbelief. But I've recently begun to realize that he actually wasn't the problem, at all."

"No?" he asked, intrigued.

"No. And I was wrong to think he was. I've recently realized that it was _me_, the whole time, holding myself back. And I have to let that hesitation go, because I'll never move forward, otherwise."

"That's a pretty big realization," he nodded, impressed with her ability to speak so openly about her failed relationship, thinking somewhat bitterly on his inability to freely speak of his own. "How'd you come to it?"

"Closure," she stated adamantly, after a moment. "From Ian, but also within myself. The knowledge that I'm living_ my_ life, _my_ dream, and I'm _better_ without toxic people like that weighing me down... And to just let it go, live without hard feelings."

"Even though he was unfaithful?" he nearly growled out, trying to imagine the unbearable hurt such a thing would have caused him.

She nodded. "It's a sad person who has to act on their weak inclinations as a cry for help instead of targeting the issue, vocalizing it, and attempting to work through it for the sake of the relationship. Ian was- and is- _weak_. He didn't value the relationship enough to try, though I admit that I do, every once in a while, get a late-night drunken voice message from him, claiming otherwise. And that usually serves the purpose of reminding me that I'm _absolutely_ better off for it."

They turned into the Bureau gate, walking at a leisurely pace in the direction of the factory building. He took a moment to silently ruminate on her words, and his visceral reactions to them. First, he was angry. _What man in his right mind would sneak around on an amazing woman like Charlie? The insecure, stupid kind_, his reasoning answered. It was easy to see why Ian would be threatened by her, with her smarts, drive, and ambition.

He also experienced trace amounts of jealousy that she'd been able to identify the source of her discontent, and act on it, something he was still unable to fully do in the five year wake of his final breakup with Liz. He sighed, finally thinking that maybe Abe was right... If he ever hoped to have a successful relationship again, something he'd lately found himself pining for, he would need to clear the air with her and find closure for himself.

"Sorry, that was a lot to dump on you." She glanced nervously up at him, not sure how to interpret his silence.

"No, that was great. It's making me evaluate my sorry excuse for a grudge I've been holding against my ex."

"Who, Liz?" she asked, hesitantly.

"Yeah," he nodded. "I could take a page from_ your_ book in the art of letting go."

"Sometimes it helps to just talk it through to someone. Like last night. I'm always willing to listen, too," she reminded him, as they entered the building hallway.

"I'll take you up on that one day," he replied, slowing to a stop outside his front door, looking down at her. "So, Charlie, what's on your plate for the rest of the day?"

"Well," she began, leaning against the door. "After all that breakfast, I thought I might take advantage of this gym across the hall, here, since I've got my gym clothes in my car. Then, I think I need to work on my thesis, which is nearly finished, thank God. How about you?"

"Gotta go into the office for a bit, not sure for how long. Figure I'll try to wrestle answers out of Abe, find out what's really going on with him."

"Well, if you find out, let me know. I'm dying to find out if he's upset over Kate, or if it's something else."

"Yeah, I'll definitely let you know," he grinned slightly, watching as she bit her full lower lip alluringly. "And, hey... Thanks for comin' over last night. And for dragging me out this morning."

She nodded. "Of course. It's nice to have someone who I can just hang out with, and have a decent conversation with outside the realm of boys, or shoes. I haven't had much in the way of close friends here the past few years, being the homebody loser that I am," she gave a humorless smile.

"Don't sweat it. Between your aunt being elsewhere, and Abe being too busy pining over her, you've officially been promoted to my new best friend." He'd intended it as a joke, but the statement rang more true than anything.

"Well, we'll have to make this a regular thing, then," she replied, beaming. "Hanging out, drinking... Being loser best friends together."

"You're on," he smiled, immediately at ease.

Before parting, she surprised him by snaking her arms around his waist, leaning her head against his chest lapel in a quick hug. "You're an incredible guy, you know that, Red?"

He brought his hands hesitantly up to wrap around her back in return, savoring in the brief warmth. "You're pretty great, yourself, Charlie."

She smiled, almost reluctantly drawing away. "Well, I'll let you get to work, then," she said, walking toward the front door to retrieve her gym bag. "Talk to you later tonight!"

"Go get 'em, tiger," he replied with a parting wave. Once out of sight, he heaved a sigh. _She's gonna be trouble for you eventually, that one_, he thought, heading into his house momentarily before heading to the main building.

-o-

He arrived at the library to find it empty, and immediately began scouring a book Abe had left out on the table, about Indonesian folklore. He was reading a fascinating excerpt about dormant volcanoes, when the side door leading to Abe's office opened. Abe walked in, telephone glued to his ear.

"...Yes, yes I know..." He sighed wearily catching sight of Hellboy at the table, giving him a slight wave. "Well, I'll be sure to run it by him, though that is a while away from now... Okay. Alright, I will. Take care."

He hung up the phone, slumping into the seat across the table.

"Should I even ask?"

"You probably don't want to hear about it," Abe sighed, waving his hand.

"What, was it Liz?"

His eyes snapped toward Red. "Maybe," he said guardedly.

"It's fine if it was, I was just... wondering," Hellboy shrugged.

"Well, _yes_, then. She wanted to pitch the suggestion that she come and spend Thanksgiving here."

"Thanksgiving? Isn't that... two months away?"

"That's what I said," he replied. "She wanted me to ask you, since she'd like you to be here for it, so you can talk. Though of course, you don't _have_ to be. Just suggesting it."

"Two months away... I dunno, Blue, I-" he paused, remembering Charlie and her closure from Ian, and instantly desiring the same feelings she'd related. "I guess I'm not... _opposed _to it, or anything," he shrugged.

"Wow, Red. That's... _progress_."

"Yeah, well, it would seem I've got myself a new therapist," he replied. "But, that's not why I'm here. _We_ need to talk, you and me."

"About what?"

"About this... _depressed_ air you've been putting on for the past few days since I got back," he answered. "Ever since I told you about Kate, and what I saw. Before that, you'd been _fine_, even when you'd already known that Kate was missing. What flipped your switch?"

Abe remained silent, fiddling with a pen on the table. "I just... I suppose when you went away to exorcise that grave site, and Kate appeared to you corporeally... Something just didn't feel right about it to me. It just seemed to be worse than I'd thought. That's all."

"There's something you aren't telling me," he needled further.

"Alright, I- I suppose you should know," Abe began, getting up and immediately pacing the floor. "You _deserve_ to know. Before she headed to Tunisia, Kate and I were on the cusp of... Well, we were almost to the point of a... mutual declaration of intent to take our relationship a step further."

He stopped, waiting for Hellboy to interject, become insolent, or make a sarcastic comment. When nothing came, he continued. "I... lead a lonely life, Red. I know you understand that to a certain point, but, in the romance department, you've had many sights more relationships than I've ever had."

"My failed relationships aren't usually something I brag about, mind you…"

Abe sighed. "Sometimes, I just..."

"Want something more?" Hellboy finished, slightly smiling at his blue friend.

"_Exactly_," Abe sighed, more color in his voice than he'd heard nearly all week. "And Kate, she... She _gets_ it. She gets _me_. We're on a similar level. Her intellect alone is a sight to behold, but coupling that with her wicked wit and all-around, general_ loveliness_... I had no choice but to fall for her. We'd been at a near-stagnant point of constant flirtation right up until she departed. It took until you related your intel to me that I truly realized the full extent of my emotions, and just how awful it would be if she were bound there forever, and I never got a chance to tell her... how I feel.

"I hope this doesn't come as a disappointment to you, Red. I know at one time, you and her were inseparable. I simply hesitated to tell you because, I didn't want you to think I was... disrespecting your past with her, or even just that I was leaving you behind."

"I'm not disappointed," he began quietly, shaking his head. "Not at all. I want you to be happy, buddy. Katie, too. And if the two of you kids have something good going, that means _I'm_ happy, because I love it when _you're_ happy. See?

"What I need you to know, Abe, is that there's no reason to worry yourself. We're bringing Katie back, and that's the end of the story. Once we get a lead, I have a feeling the whole case will fall into place. And you're more than welcome to come along for the recovery mission, whenever that may be," he finished, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

Abe smiled slightly, looking a few shades better than in the previous days.

"Charlie said she's gonna set you two up, either way," he grinned.

"Charlie? How does she-"

"She's a great judge of character, Blue. Already had you pegged as being upset over Katie. We had dinner at my place last night, and this morning, we went-"

"Hold up, rewind that… did you just jump from night time to morning in one sentence, and not even elaborate?" Abe exclaimed.

"It's not like that, guy," Hellboy rolled his eyes. "I might be red and have horns, but I know how to respect a lady's boundaries. She happened to fall asleep on the couch last night before she could call a cab. We went and got breakfast this morning. _Nothing else_."

"Sure," Abe shrugged. "But I'll warn you, Red. I don't see this ending well for you, if you're expecting to escape the clutches of your fascination with her unscathed. Those Corrigan women are a tenacious bunch with a way of getting under your skin, as you and I both well know."

"It's too early to tell," he answered non-committally. "Besides, I... well, I can't exactly afford to be thinking about her that way, _regardless_ of whether or not I do. I need to address the small matter of my crushing inability to move on from the damage Liz did before I could even remotely entertain the possibility of initiating another relationship."

"Ahh, so the truth comes out," Abe said quietly, sitting back down. "You _do _carry some feelings for her."

"When did I ever say that?"

"You didn't have to," Abe replied, smiling omniscently, before grabbing the heavy book in front of him, and hefting it open.

"So, you good now?" Hellboy asked, pointedly ignoring Abe's smart remarks.

"_Much _better, Hellboy. Thank you," Abe replied, as they spent the rest of the morning and well into the afternoon reading through dense volumes, discussing files, and following up on cases.


	9. Chapter 9

_**A/N:** Hi readers! Happy Hellboy Week! Did you know it was Hellboy Week? 20 years ago this month, the first issue of Hellboy was published. So let's celebrate! I celebrated by buying a crap-ton of Hellboy and BPRD hardcovers last week, and am currently devouring BPRD: Plague of Frogs: Book 2. And... I... LOVE IT. Of course. Babe Sapien, FTW._

_ I'm on Spring Break, so you know what that means... a new chapter! The majority of this has been sitting in my google docs folder for a few weeks now, and I'm glad I finally get to post it. The first part of the chapter is a bit of a time jump summary, from September to October. The whole chapter is extremely Charlie-centric. Let's assume things are progressing slowly but surely in the search for information on Kate. Then, you get the distinct pleasure(?) of reading the first action-based sequence I've ever written, EVER, you lucky dogs. I hope it comes out alright. _

_Some notes: The specific song being referenced in Charlie's little reflection on her and HB's most recent hangout is "666 Conducer" by Black Rebel Motorcycle Club. Give it a listen and I think you'll understand why it incites a bit of... tension. Haha._

_As always, thank you SO much for your support, be it through PMs, reviews, favorites, follows, or heck, even just reading. Drop me a line if you have any specific questions/comments/concerns/flames for me. I love 'em all! Again, they are my ultimate motivators to continue plugging along, as it's a visual reminder to me that there are, in fact, people reading this silly little story. MUCH LOVE! SPRING BREAK, WOO! -S.A._

* * *

It didn't take long for Charlie to start getting a hang of the way of life at the Bureau. She eventually found herself waking up every morning, looking forward to the prospect of heading into work for the day, as opposed to the initial unsurety she'd experienced in her first weeks. She spent most of her days pulling and reading files, cross-referencing books, and assembling missives for upcoming cases. She was able to devote a few hours here and there to investigating any current phenomena occurring in Indonesia, searching for a hint of anything that would clue them in to what had happened to Kate.

October approached, and while the case was considered officially open by Bureau standards, due to lack of information and Kate's cryptic warning to Hellboy to not come looking for her until she signified otherwise, any hope of an extraction mission was on the back burner. At the request of Dr. Manning, Maggie the psychic escorted Charlie to a gifted healer friend of hers who specialized in crystals and amulets, in order to further examine the stone from Indonesia.

"This is a very strange amulet, indeed," the healer woman had said, examining the burnished rust-colored stone. "Your aunt must have gone to great lengths to encase herself inside of this."

"Aunt Kate's in... there?" she'd asked, incredulous, looking at Maggie.

Maggie shrugged, holding the stone for herself. "Part of her energy_ is_ in here. My best guess is that when she warned Hellboy not to come back until she gave him a sign, she probably manifested _this_ as a means of communication through which she'll do so. Now, you mentioned that the stone sometimes feels warm to the touch, and that it scarred your palm, is that correct?"

"Yes. Although the scar's pretty much gone, now." She held out her hand to Maggie and the healer woman, who held it, tisking gently as she examined the faint circular marking.

"Keep an eye on it," the healer warned. "Between the stone and the scar, you'll get your sign soon enough. As for now, the _warmth_ of the stone signifies that your aunt is indeed alive and well."

Satisfied with the information received, she'd returned to the Bureau to pass along the information to Hellboy and Abe, specifically the latter. Though she hadn't outright mentioned that she was aware of his amorous inclinations toward her aunt, Charlie made sure to let him know that Kate, wherever she was, was doing fine. The information had seemed to even further soothe the man, who had come around to relinquish himself of any prior fear he'd had for Kate's life after his confession to Hellboy a few weeks earlier.

By the time October fully rolled around, Charlie's only weekday off from the Bureau was Tuesday, which she usually used to put the finishing touches on her thesis paper. She was almost fully into the swing of things at work, having mastered most everything her job entailed, outside of an actual field assignment, which Hellboy would regularly warn was bound to happen sooner than later. She found herself to be the only one in the library some days, as he and Abe would intermittently cut work to go on various assignments. She found herself putting in longer and longer hours on the days she worked alone, finding the quiet soothing, yet also strangely unnerving, as she missed the commentary from the peanut gallery that the two of them provided on the rare days that all three of them were assembled together.

The second Thursday of October had been a strangely short day at the office for Charlie, who had only seen Abe for a few moments in the morning as he'd headed out for a day of meetings. Hellboy had only just arrived back the previous night from an assignment he'd been on since Sunday, and took the day to rest. She'd returned home while it was still light out, and planted herself on the couch, her newest book beside her, offering her the promise of losing herself in a fictional work for a few hours. She stared at the cover for some time, before finally opening the book to the page she'd left off on, taking a quick glimpse at her makeshift bookmark, the old picture of Aunt Kate in the mirror in Cairo. Despite her best efforts to concentrate on the novel at hand, she got stuck reading the same paragraph in her book over for about the hundredth time. Now dark outside, her eyes traced over the words, not truly investing herself in them as she should have been.

Her mind kept floating back to one particular man.

The week had marked the end of her first month as a BPRD employee, and nothing about her job gave her more enjoyment than spending time getting to know her co-workers, specifically Hellboy, of course. They'd made it a regular habit to hang out once or twice a week outside of work, mostly at his place. She'd grown to both love and dread these hours spent with him, as most nights ended with them sitting side by side on his couch, sometimes drinking, having conversations in varying levels of intensity on multiple topics, before he'd abruptly retire to his room as she'd slip off to sleep on the couch, missing his warmth against her.

She reflected on their last gathering, the Saturday night before, which had ended a little differently than any time previous. In a rare turn of events, they hadn't even had anything to drink, instead losing themselves in conversation upon her arrival. They'd sat on the couch, listening to one of Charlie's few vinyl albums that she'd brought over, having had nothing to listen to it on at Kate's. The conversation had faltered, and they sat in comfortable silence, listening to the music. She'd sighed in contentment, letting the raw sounds that only vinyl provided wash over her.

At some point, he'd absent-mindedly tucked her in the crook of his arm, leaning her into him, and they'd sat listening to the album in the dark for a few moments. In one instant, she became hyper-aware at how unusually close their proximity to one another was. She began feeling hot under the collar, both at the sultriness of the current song and the ease at which his gestures were leading her into a state of undoing. She struggled against her urge to not turn her head to look up at his face, just inches above hers. She was afraid of what might happen, or what might _not_ happen, if she did.

She didn't have long to wonder, as his hand came up, gently turning her chin toward him, his eyes unreadable as he searched her face for something. She didn't dare do a thing, for fear of making a wrong move as he continued his curiously intimate evaluation of her in the dim light.

Right as the song ended in silence before changing over to the next, they both broke the stare, looking away as they descended into a rare moment of awkwardness. Charlie quickly rose off the couch to gather her things, as he concurred that he should probably rest up for the long mission in Texas he had ahead of him. Charlie agreed to come over to feed the cat every day he was gone, and he'd put his hand behind her head and had given her a quick kiss on the forehead at the door before she left. Her face had burned all the way to her car, all the way home that night, and burned even five days later, as she distractedly recalled the moment.

She shut the book frustratedly, dropping it on her lap with a sigh as she pressed her cooler hands against her warm cheeks. What _was_ it about him, that made her heart jump when he walked in the room, or her stomach drop when he touched her, or hell, even looked in her direction? She had grown tired of the telltale flush that she felt warm her cheeks whenever her mind dwelled in thought of him. She knew it was a visible sign of her emotions, which she hated more than anything.

_That damn bastard got lucky with his red skin_, she thought amusedly. He'd returned the night before from the successful mission of hunting a coyote demon, and had sent her a message saying as much. They'd made plans to get together at Kate's on Friday night, since all the old movie channels were starting to show all the horror classics for Halloween. Was it really only a few weeks to Halloween? That meant almost exactly a month until her birthday…._ Hmm_.

She was immediately jolted from her thoughts by her cell phone buzzing, turning it over to find his name on her caller ID. She immediately answered, having not heard his voice since Saturday. _Maybe after we talk a minute, I'll be able to focus on this damn book,_ she thought.

"Hello," she cleared her throat, praying that the ensuing conversation wouldn't have any trace remnants of Saturday night's awkwardness.

"Heyyy," came his deep voice over the line. "What'cha doing?"

"Right... now?" she asked, confused.

"Right this very minute."

"_Well_, I was… Hm. What_ was_ I doing?" She shook her head, looking down at the abandoned book in her hand. "I was attempting to read, I guess. But I keep getting... distracted."

"By what?"

"Well… _you_, this time," she admitted, reasoning that it wasn't exactly a lie. "But, other random stuff before that."

"Ah," he replied conversationally. From the cadence of his voice, it sounded as if he were walking very briskly. "Wanna know what_ I'm_ doing?"

She grew suspicious at his conspiratorial tone. "Actually... yes. What are you doing, Hellboy?"

A series of knocks came from the front door. She sighed, pushing off the couch as she walked toward the door, cradling the phone between her ear and shoulder. "Is that _you_ knocking? Not that I mind the visit, at all, but I thought we were set for tomorrow night?"

She yanked the door open to find him, not dressed in his usual casual duster, but instead wearing an olive-green bomber jacket bearing the Bureau insignia. He leaned casually against the door jamb and held up his right hand, a smaller version of his jacket dangling on the end of his large pointer finger, the back of which read C. ADLER. "Surprise! Your first field assignment, Charlie."

"Aw, _crap_," she grumbled, dropping the phone defeatedly away from her ear as she stared grumpily at the tall demon with skeptical eyes. She was trying her hardest not to notice just how well the jacket fit his large frame.

"Hey, that's _my_ line," he quipped, grinning like the cat who got the canary. "C'mon. It'll be _fun_. I promise you'll do fine."

"Hi Charlie," called someone from outside. She gestured for Hellboy to move sideways to see Abe, standing on the walkway, waving to her.

"Hey Abe," she smiled genuinely, waving back. She turned back to Hellboy, sighing. "You brought Abe?"

"'Course I did. Needed some kind of bargaining chip to get you to come out. He'll guide you through the basics, and you two can talk about... whatever your little geek hearts desire while I go beat up the assorted riff-raff on tonight's menu. Don't worry, I promise you won't be diving headfirst into the field. You'll be strictly van-only this time around, unless _you_ say different."

"...You really thought this through, didn't you?"

"I did," he nodded.

She gave a moment's pause, before sighing. "...Alright. I'm in. But you're just lucky I hadn't put my pajamas on yet. Then it would have been a no-go."

"Kinda sorry I missed it," he shrugged with a smile as she slipped her shoes on. "Bunny slippers, I presume?"

"Dream on."

She shot him a withering smirk, finding it surprisingly easy to replace the usual rush of blood to her face she experienced from his jabs with expressions of feigned exasperation. He held out the jacket for her as she shrugged it on.

"How does it look?" she asked sincerely, shrugging as she stepped back and turned toward him. His golden eyes raked over her, and he reached out, respectfully brushing at a tiny piece of lint on her lapel, which read RESEARCH.

_Alright, maybe not as easy as I thought_, she reasoned internally, feeling heat rise in her cheeks at the innocent gesture.

A slight, proud smile touched his lips as his gaze landed upon hers. "Looks pretty damn perfect. Katie would be proud."

"Funny, seeing as how she always told me she _hated_ field work," she replied, grabbing her keys as they exited the front entryway of the condo, pulling the door shut behind her. A black Bureau van waited on the corner, engine running. Abe waved at her again, this time from the driver's seat.

"Abe _drives_?" she asked, turning to look at Hellboy.

"Abe does a lot of things," he smiled, placing his hand on her shoulder. "Take the front seat. I'm gonna stretch out my kit in back, organize my gear."

She pulled the door open to the passenger's side, sliding into the tall bucket seat beside the blue agent, dressed in a black neoprene outfit and coat, also bearing the Bureau seal. Hellboy slid into the back seat, making good on his promise as he began unrolling bundles containing various tools, bullets, and relics.

"Are you ready, Charlie?" Abe asked, putting the car into drive and shifting away from the curb.

She sighed, glancing at the amphibious driver, who wore a subtle smile on his face as he easily guided the car. "I guess," she smiled back. "Aside from not exactly knowing what it is we're investigating."

"Routine haunted artifact," Hellboy answered from behind her, considering an instrument that looked suspiciously like an archaic scalpel before moving on to the next item in his roll of tricks. "Some old, rich lady in a stuffy mansion about ten miles north of here got ahold of a tiny, extremely cursed piece of Ancient Egypt. Something that was never meant to leave the tombs of Cairo."

"And you're going to… exorcise it?"

"Nah, we just have to make sure we can remove it from the premises without anybody getting hurt," he replied. "Easier said than done, though. The old lady's son reported that she's holed up in her room with it, and won't come out. Says there's a bunch of beetles and a giant scorpion running wild through the halls, as well."

"...Alright, when you say 'giant' scorpion, what's my basis for comparison, here? Like, on a scale of Teddy bear to Great Dane, how big, exactly?" Charlie asked uneasily.

Hellboy picked up a sheathed knife, pulling out a silver dagger-type blade. He tucked it back into its holster, giving her a look. "Hey. Don't worry about it."

She rolled her eyes at his nonchalant tone. "If you didn't want me to _worry_ about it, you shouldn't have mentioned its' size so casually."

"...Anyway," he continued, pointedly ignoring her annoyed tone. "We're supposed to meet the son at the property guest home before heading up toward the manor. You two will stay parked out front and monitor me via camera while I head inside to see what kind of crunchy little critters I can find."

"Delightful," Abe answered, rolling his eyes.

They continued the drive outside the stretches of suburbia, toward the posh gated property within which the old lady lived, on the largest estate perched atop a hill overlooking a sprawling golf course. As the van approached the gate, it automatically rolled back, allowing them passage onto the private drive. The paved road was lined on either side with birch trees, which glowed an eerie white in the crisp moonlit evening.

Charlie's heart began beating rapidly as they drew nearer to what she presumed was the guest house at the end of the tree tunnel. They slowed to a stop as a slender, nervous-looking man approached their vehicle. Abe rolled down the passenger side automatic window as the man swam more clearly into view. She guessed he was no more than fifty, though his drawn face and whitened temples hinted that he had been through quite a few rough seasons, lately.

"Daniel Armitage?" Abe asked.

The man nodded, swallowing slightly. He caught sight of Hellboy in the back, who gave a slight wave. "Thank you for coming. I appreciate it... It's gotten worse in the past few hours, unfortunately."

"We're here to help," Hellboy replied from the back. "Hop in and we'll head on up."

As they approached the large manor, looming at the apex of the hill, Mr. Armitage came to explain on how his mother, Lillian, had always been fond of Ancient Egyptian culture, and had been an avid collector of trinkets from the time period, much of which were not only difficult to come by without vast amounts of money at one's disposal, but even then, were extremely rare and dangerous. The artifact in question, described by Armitage as a small and golden scarab brooch, had transferred a negative energy into his mother, causing her to regurgitate beetles from her mouth, and speak in tongues.

"So how did she come to be in possession of this _particular_ artifact?" Hellboy asked.

"Well, many people have dropped by to pay their respects, and many brought gifts for her to the viewing-"

"Wait, wait wait a minute. _Viewing_?" Hellboy interjected. "Did I miss something, here?"

Charlie turned in her seat to look at Armitage. His brows were drawn together in confusion as he thought for a moment. "Well, yes. I did mention that she's... Well, she was... _Dead_. Didn't I?"

"Afraid you left that little detail out," he grumbled, shooting Charlie a wide-eyed look of annoyed disbelief. She stifled a laugh as the oblivious Armitage continued.

"Yes, mother passed a few days ago. It's a family tradition to leave the body in place for a time to allow people to come visit before she's moved to her final place of rest. People brought flowers, little priceless pieces of history for her. She had a great many admirers, in her day. Yesterday, one very peculiar old man who didn't give his name -He only said he'd known her from back when she had been a debutante before marrying father- came as a final visitor before she was to be buried this morning. He brought for her a small gold scarab. I watched him place it on her chest. He said 'A gift to you in the grave, Lillian', kissed her on the cheek, and slipped out as quickly as he came.

"Imagine my surprise this very morning when I went in to select her burial outfit, and she… she… was sitting upright in bed, seemingly alive. I nearly had a heart attack. Something obviously sinister was happening. Her eyes glowed a strange orange color and she began speaking in tongues… I was just... _staring_ at her, transfixed by how _horrible_ it was. And that's when the beetles came. And the _scorpion_ out from under her bed… which finally got me moving. And the door slammed shut as I ran out, and hasn't opened since, though the beetles are still coming out from under the door, and she's in there, chanting to herself.

"The beetles have only gotten worse in the last hour or two," he sighed. "I just don't understand _why_ that strange man did this to poor mother's body."

"Sounds like a simple case of a jilted ex-lover, to me," answered Hellboy, shrugging. "I've dealt with possession through artifacts like this, before. The scorpion will have to be eliminated before we can remove the scarab, since it acts as a sorta-security system. Once that's dead, and the scarab is removed from her person, the beetles and other things'll disappear."

"And mother…?"

"She'll go back to being dead," he finished. "Sorry if that puts a cramp in your weekend plans."

"N-no, no, it's quite alright. It was her time," the ashen-faced Armitage answered, nodding in understanding.

They parked the van out front the looming white mansion, Armitage and Hellboy climbing out of the back seats. Abe and Charlie hopped in the van's back cabin, booting up the monitors and testing the equipment as Hellboy assembled his belt.

"Alright," he began, strapping a camera to his chest. "I'm goin' in. Charlie, you'll be my liason, and Abe'll walk you through it."

Armitage unlocked and opened the manor's front door for the red demon, who gave her a slight wave before stalking in quickly.

"You ready?" Abe asked, looking over at Charlie. She nodded tightly, her nerves prickling as she slipped on her communication headset.

She watched the monitor for a few minutes as Hellboy walked through the dimly-lit manor, poking around every corner.

"Red to Blue and Charlie, do you copy?"

"We copy, Red," she answered back. "What's your twenty?"

She turned to Abe, releasing the button. "...That's something we say, right? What's your twenty?"

"If you like. You could also just ask him to identify his location, too," he smirked, examining the floor plan of the house.

She wrinkled her nose at the blue man as Hellboy came back. "I'm currently in what _looks_ to be the dining room, can't make it out too well in the dark… Hey, Charlie, can you look at the monitor in thermographic mode and tell me what kinda read you're getting?"

"Copy that, Red, I- Holy crap. Where did those things _come _from?"

The image on the switched screen showed that the dining room wall was teeming with hordes of black beetles, glittering like facets in obsidian. "Yeah, I dunno. They aren't attacking, or anything, so I'll leave 'em be, for now. I'm gonna head upstairs and see if I can request an audience with the lady of the house," he mused. "And hopefully find that rumored scorpion before he finds me."

Charlie watched the monitor nervously as Red's camera doubled back and began the descent up the stairs. A few stray beetles scurried along the railways.

"Tell him to keep on straight ahead," Abe guided her. "The bedroom Armitage indicated is through the double doors on the left at the end of the hallway."

Charlie parroted the information to him, watching the thermographic view as tiny things darted about in the corners of the screen. He came to stand outside the double doors, angling downward as a few beetles ran over his boots. He raised his left hand, knocking heavily at the door three times.

"Mrs. Armitage? Lillian? May I come in?"

Through the headset, Charlie heard a load of hissing and gasping, intelligible words that she couldn't quite make out, but Hellboy apparently could, as he made noises of agreement.

"Uh huh… yeah, yeah sure… of course. Of _course_... Gimme one moment."

He walked away from the door, pacing down the hall.

"What is it?" asked Charlie over the comm, shooting Abe a nervous glance.

"She wants a blood sacrifice," he sighed. "Blood smeared on the door as a penance, before she'll let me enter. Even the smallest bit will do the trick."

"Alright, so… you can just cut your hand a bit with the blade you packed, right?" she asked, nerves jangling with apprehension as to why he hadn't just gone ahead and done it. Abe looked at her, confused, not able to hear what Hellboy was saying over the comm. "Blood sacrifice," she shrugged, looking back toward the monitor, which indicated he was pointed toward the stairwell.

"Well," Hellboy replied. "The blood penances of Ancient Egypt were usually offered by _humans_, firstly. So that puts me out of the running. Also, they were usually young, beautiful virgin maidens making the sacrifices to appease the gods."

"You got me there. It would appear that the 'young, beautiful virgin maiden' shelf in the van is empty. We're fresh out," she retorted. Abe snickered as he returned to tracing his finger over the floor plan.

"Yeah... but we've got _you_," he carefully answered her back over the comm, giving her pause.

"...Okay, but I'm not in the running either, since I don't exactly fit the_ list of requirements_, here, Red…" She stole a covert glance at an otherwise occupied Abe, glad he wasn't able to hear both sides of the conversation.

"Hm. I don't know, I'd say you fit the bill just fine," he said in a low voice, his baritone sending an involuntary shudder through her. "...Maybe not one-hundred percent of the way, but a damn sight better than Abe or I, in any case. You've got that pure, innocent thing going for you. And not to cheapen that, but the only other human at our current disposal is Armitage, and you're _definitely_ younger and one hell of a lot more beautiful than he is."

She groaned slightly, running her hands over her hot face. _This is a trick_, she thought. _He's tricking you into saying yes with this smooth-talking routine. But, is it really smooth-talking if he's pretty much insinuating he thinks you're some innocent kid, some naive little girl? Besides that, if you don't say yes, you risk messing up the whole assignment. _

_You're fucked, either way. _

"I'll even make it easy on you; I'll come back down, take a quick sample, we'll bandage you up, and you can stay in the van while I take it back upstairs as an offering, alright?"

She swallowed, taking his words in. He'd spoken with concern in his voice, as if he thought she was too frightened, too ingenuous to even consider venturing into the creepy white manor. _Which is true to a certain point_, she thought, before reminding herself that if she wanted to succeed on this particular career path- which she desperately did- she'd have to dive in headfirst.

"No, I… I'm coming in. I need to go in with you to do it," she nodded.

"Knew I could count on you, kiddo," she heard the smile in his voice. "I'll be down to meet you in a minute. Red out."

His comm clicked off, and she pulled off the headpiece, sighing as she glanced at Abe. "Looks like I'm goin' in."

"Oh?" he asked, looking up from his map. "And what prompted that change?"

"Well, you heard me talking about young maidens and their blood, right? According to Red, I'm probably the closest thing we've got to one of those at the moment, so… I'm gonna go attempt to pay the toll. It's worth a shot, I guess," she shrugged.

Abe pondered on that for a moment before giving a slight nod. "Well, in that case… Be safe and stay close to Hellboy, and you'll be fine."

She smiled, handing over the comm headpiece to Abe. "Agent Sapien, with this headset, comes great responsibility. Will you wear it proudly?"

"On my honor," he saluted her.

She exited the back of the vehicle, walking toward the front doors, which had just cracked open. Hellboy appeared, gesturing for her to get in quickly. He closed the door behind them, encasing them in the dim, haunting lobby, only slightly illuminated from lights outside the manor.

"Pretty dark in here, don't you think?" she whispered nervously, trying to get her visual bearings straight. He was standing so close, she could feel the heat radiating from him. "Should we turn a flashlight on?"

"Probably not a great idea. I'm not sure if the insects will react negatively to light," he answered in a low voice. "I've got my hands full with this gun, here, so don't stray from me too much."

She gasped audibly as she felt something lightly touch the small of her back, ushering her toward the stairs.

"Sorry, Charlie, just my tail. Didn't mean to scare you."

"It's alright," she admitted shakily. Her previous frustration from the van had almost all evaporated once she had entered the house and pure unease gripped her. She thankfully found that her fear did not cloud her judgment, and in fact seemed to hyper-sensitize her to her surroundings. _You can do this, you can do this… _She repeated the seemingly simple mantra to herself, finding that with each step they took across the entrance hall and up the blackened staircase, it became easier. She began saying it aloud once she realized that in the silent dark, the noises of scurrying beetles on the walls and banisters were greatly amplified.

"And, uh, apologies if my earlier comments embarrassed you," he said quietly, leading her up the staircase.

"Oh," she shrugged, though she knew he couldn't exactly see her. "Don't apologize. I just hadn't realized that you thought of me as such a... beacon of purity. Caught me off guard, is all. And hey, it ultimately got me into the field, so..."

"Charlie, I wasn't-"

He was abruptly cut off by a skittering noise coming from the opposite end of the hall. His dexterous tail wrapped around her arm to still her at the top of the stairs, the end lightly caressing her inner elbow, sending a jolt of goosebumps up to her shoulder. She took a deep breath, exhaling less shakily than before. She could barely make him out as he swung around with the gun in his hand, checking blind corners for any trouble, before moving them both down the hall toward the double doors of Lillian Armitage's place of unrest.

An odd light spilled from under the crack of the doors and through the keyhole, dimly illuminating a few feet of the hallway they stood in. Hellboy bent down toward her, putting his head next directly next to hers. "Just give me your hand whenever you're ready. I'll make it small, promise," he said, slightly above a whisper.

She nodded, feeling the bristle of his sideburns alongside her cheek. She held out her upturned palm to him, feeling slightly more at ease knowing that he was there. In fact, her fear was beginning to turn into confidence in her own ability to handle the unknown.

He took her hand gently, unsheathing the dagger from earlier in the van. He dug the sharp point into the tip of her pointer finger, twisting slightly. She lightly flinched, though it was ultimately painless. He gave her a reassuring smile as he squeezed her fingertip between the fingers of his left hand, allowing a bubble of blood to pool up to the surface. He took her hand in his, pointer finger out, slowly tracing a circular symbol on the door.

"Alright, Lillian, the blood of an innocent," he said at a normal volume, addressing the entity within. "You asked, and you received. Now can I come in?"

_More, _a rattling hiss of a voice came. _I… want… MORE._

Hellboy shook his head annoyed, before dropping Charlie's hand. "Lillian, I don't wanna play games with you. You got the blood. No need to be greedy." He dropped down to a crouch, peering through the keyhole in the hopes of being able to see inside. With no immediate success, he moved his head around hoping to get a better angle or a glimpse of anything. With his distraction, he failed to notice the slight skittering sounds from earlier drawing closer and closer down the wing of the hall toward them.

"Uhh, Red?" he heard Charlie whisper from behind him.

"Yeah, Charlie?" he began distractedly.

"I... found the scorpion."

He remained mid-crouch, blood running icy. His gun was clutched under his arm, and he held the dagger in his left hand. He fought against every nerve in his body that was screaming at him to turn around and do something to defend her from it. He strained his ears, and from directly behind him, heard the light skittering and chirping noises. He inhaled a deep breath through his nose, slowly letting it out.

"Alright," he swallowed. "Where exactly is it?"

"It's not even looking at me, but… If you can just put that dagger in my hand, I can probably stab it."

"On a scale of Teddy bear to Great Dane… how big?"

"I don't know, I can't see too well… I'd err on the side of Great Dane, though."

"That's a big-ass scorpion," he breathed, as the chirping intensified.

The groaning from within Lillian's room surged greatly, and the possessed body within gave a final bellow for more blood.

With Lillian's scream, it sounded as if the scorpion ceased its' chirping momentarily, perhaps trying to locate the direction of the sounds emanating from its' commander. Hellboy took the opportunity of distraction pivot on his foot from his crouched position in order to stab the scorpion, but was met with the unexpected soft weight of Charlie pushing him out of the way, right as the scorpion's tail, which had been mid-strike upon his turn, screamed down to meet with her left leg. Its' stinger slashed through her jeans and skin easily, her blood almost instantaneously ran down her calf. Enraged, he rose the blade to drive the dagger downward into its' torso, but Charlie got there first, with a sickening crunch of her shoe through its' head.

"Charlie…" he panted, flicking the flashlight from his belt on to observe the young woman, blood streaming down her leg and into the mess of scorpion guts and cracked exoskeleton surrounding her now-soaked shoe.

"He almost… stuck that thing… in your jugular," she grimaced through the pain, holding futilely at her leg to try and staunch the flow.

"I would've survived," he swallowed, watching helplessly as she pulled her foot out of the slimy cavity she'd created. The scorpion's tail twitched in automatic response. "Did it go deep?"

She shrugged in the dark, removing a flashlight from her own belt before flicking it on to look at her leg. "I think... it's fine. I'm certainly not paralyzed."

She turned toward the door, gathering her own blood as it filled the palm of her hand rather quickly. She smeared it on the door in a large circle, looking much like a child to him, fingerpainting on the walls out of boredom.

"Hey Lillian," she called, rapping her fist on the door. "Your little... _pet_ succeeded in cutting me open, so here's your damn blood offering."

The door immediately cracked open.

Hellboy turned to Charlie, holding out his arms to her, as if to carry her. "Come on," he began, sounding slightly urgent.

"What are you doing? Go in there and grab that thing," she said. From the light of the now-open room, he observed that her face had blanched within moments.

"Charlie... you're losin' a lot of blood, kiddo. I gotta get you down to Abe before you bleed out."

"Okay, so… so hurry up and _grab_ that thing and we can go," she replied. "The scorpion's gone, now. I'm fine."

He shook his head, observing her steely and still-lucid expression with something resembling admiration. "...Alright. but you stand_ right_ in the door where I can see you," he warned, extracting a gold talisman on a chain from the inner breast pocket of his bomber jacket. She nodded, slipping inside the room with him, back up against the wall, sinking down to the floor with her hand cupped to her calf.

Hellboy dangled the talisman out in front of him, turning the blind corner to find Lillian Armitage's sunken corpse, sitting upright in bed and admiring a shimmering gold brooch perched fondly upon her skeletal hand. She did not notice Hellboy at first, until he cleared his throat as he approached. Her eyes immediately snapped to his.

The ochre orbs of her eyes danced with anger in their mottled blue sockets, as she opened her mouth to release a small stream of beetles, emerging with a clicking hiss out of her mouth.

_Anung Un Rama…_ came the tail end of the hissing. _Have you come to join me in my Egyptian tomb?_

"Egyptian? Kinda more of a English Countryside manor vibe, if you ask me," he said, dropping the talisman out in front of him, letting it swerve about on the chain. The cursed spirit inside Lillian's body was immediately entranced by it's sparkle, a relic of Saint John of Egypt.

"You like that, don't you?" he asked, drawing closer to the bed. He hastened a glance at Charlie, who was trying to stay focused on him.

Lillian seemed ecstatic to see the glowing gold talisman, and writhed within the bed as he brought it closer.

"I'll give it to you, if you tell me your name," he stated quietly, stopping at the side of the bed.

The spirit inside Lillian laughed, quietly at first, but then growing louder. The louder it grew, the closer Hellboy swung the talisman, until Lillian was thrashing from its' licks, leaving burn marks across her papery yellowed skin.

"Tell me your name, and it'll stop burning you," he said finally, pressing it to her forehead. She screamed, writhing in pain. The golden scarab brooch tumbled beside her onto the bed, forgotten and untouched as the spirit bellowed out its' name.

_SHEZMU, SHEZMU!_

It continually screeched its' name until Hellboy reached over the body, grabbing the beetle brooch with a handkerchief. He handed the talisman to the now-calm inhabited corpse, before flashing the brooch, and commanding the Spirit of Shezmu to remove himself from the body and fly back into it.

There was a flash of green light, and within seconds it was over. The once-again lifeless body of Lillian Armitage slumped back in the bed, a look of calm over her face. Charlie drowsily watched from her spot on the wall as Hellboy laid the old woman back down on the bed, smoothing the old woman's hair into place, before kneeling on the floor and saying a silent prayer. She felt a calm move throughout the house as he said his wordless prayer, and she herself drifted away from the waking world, hand falling away from her bloody leg.

The next thing she knew, she regained consciousness in the back of the Bureau van, in motion. She made to sit up, but was guided back down by a large, heavy hand on her shoulder. Her head was swimming with thoughts as she wondered what had happened: Who had brought her to the van and how, and _why_ did this pillow smell so good? She lifted her gaze to find Hellboy's golden eyes staring back down at her with concern as a flash from the headlights of a passing car lit up the interior of the van. Her head was nested on his bundled-up jacket, which was cushioned on the side of his leg, propping her head up slightly.

"What… happened? To Lillian?" she croaked, coughing to clear her dry throat.

"She's alright now," he nodded, handing her a bottle of water. "At peace. I checked. The brooch is packed up safe, ready to be shipped back to Egypt. Armitage also extended his thanks to you. Without you, the scorpion wouldn't be dead, and that door would still be closed. But enough about that; how do _you_ feel?"

"O-okay, I guess," she began, almost not believing it herself. She was tired and had a headache, but at least was no longer losing blood. She looked down at her leg, now bandaged tight. "Better, now. What did you guys do to me?"

-o-

_Hellboy had been just finishing up his prayer of cleansing for Lillian Armitage's spirit, when Abe's voice cut through his concentration over his earpiece._

"_Red? Come in, Red. I've been trying to get through to you for ten minutes, now. Your camera shorted out."_

_He cleared his throat, glancing over at Charlie to see that she'd slipped into unconsciousness. _

"_Shit," he said, pressing his comm button. "Sorry 'bout that, Blue. We hit a bit of a snag, and Charlie's leg got slashed pretty bad by the scorpion right before she killed it. She just passed out on me. Can you get the med kit ready? I'm bringing her down right now."_

_He blew out the candles surrounding the bed just as the electricity flickered back on, and he walked over to Charlie, stooping to pick her up out of the pool of blood surrounding her leg._

"_Is she alright?" Abe asked with concern._

"_She'll be fine. We'll need to IV her, though. I know you can do that," he replied, walking toward the stairwell._

"_I can," he replied. "But you know, Red, this all could have been avoided if you'd actually used that vial of purified blood that I _know_ you always keep on your belt."_

"_Must've slipped my mind," he answered back, knowing full-well it hadn't slipped his mind, at all. He looked down at Charlie, limp like a ragdoll, and seemingly small in the breadth of his arms. "I'd appreciate if you'd not mention that to her, either. I had to get her to jump into it somehow. Didn't turn out exactly how I planned, but it'll serve her in the long run."_

"_What are friends for?" Abe answered with a sigh, cutting out to ready the med kit._

_-o-_

"You passed out upstairs, so... I carried you back down," he said, holding up a bag of dark blood in his hand that connected to a makeshift IV in her hand. "All this is worse than it looks. The IV included. Pretty standard, actually, given that you lost consciousness. The cut wasn't so deep after all, but it nicked a secondary vein, so you managed to lose a fair bit of blood. Abe stitched and bandaged you up pretty quickly, and was able to get your blood mostly replenished"

"Thank you Dr. Abe," Charlie vocalized from the backseat.

"Anytime, Charlie," came Abe's voice from the driver's seat.

"So, Charlie… How do you feel about what happened? Done with field work?"

She shook her head, looking up at him. "Maybe for the time being, but not forever. I've still got a lot to learn, I think… and it was kinda fun. I'd go back in. I think I might need my leg to heal, first," she laughed.

"I've got some troll-made herbal salve back at my place," he continued quietly, moving a strand of hair out of her eyes. "Stinks something awful, but it'll have you nearly healed by morning. We'll get you cleaned up over there, then you can get some rest. And hey... thanks for taking that stinger for me, back there. You're a war hero, now."

"Part of the job," she shrugged sleepily, smiling up at him as they pulled up to the front Bureau gates for the night.

-o-

"I'm _really_ gonna miss those shoes," Charlie mourned from the bathroom, addressing Hellboy through the cracked door. Upon arriving back at his place, he'd guided her into the bathroom, sitting her down on the ledge of the tub and leaving her to change. She used scissors to cut the remainder of her jeans off her injured leg, peeling the blood-soaked pants away from her body. She wrestled on a pair of shorts, thankful that she'd left a spare gym bag at his place a few weeks prior. "These _pants_ I could care less about, but those shoes… rest in scorpion carcass, favorite sneakers."

"If that was the worst casualty of the evening, I'll take it," he answered back at her from across the hall where he sat on his bed, examining the jar of noxious but effective troll salve. "Need... any help in there?"

"Putting my clothes on? No. Walking? Maybe in a minute," she answered, smiling.

"You sure about that? Been in there awful long," he smiled, walking into the hall to wait outside the door.

"Okay, I think I'm ready…"

He entered the bathroom to find her balancing on her favored foot, her injured left leg pulled slightly upward like a flamingo. She grimaced, wearing her gym shorts and a loose heathered grey shirt. He couldn't help it as his eyes traced down over the expanse of skin left uncovered by her shorts, her shapely calves and smooth thighs curving into her hips. She smiled tightly as he walked over to her, bending over to put her arm around his neck, before bracing her around the small of her waist and walking her across the hall.

"Where... are we going, exactly?" she asked, almost nervous as he led her toward his room.

"You're sleeping in here tonight. The couch might be comfortable, but I'll sleep better on it than you will," he answered. "You need a bed."

"I don't want to displace you," she protested weakly, knowing it would do her no good. He relinquished her arm back to her as he reached the edge of the bed, watching as she hopped backward up onto it, legs dangling over the side.

He knelt in front of her, gently untaping the bandage Abe had put on her calf. He wiped away the dried blood with a wet cloth, observing the bruising that formed around the stitched wound. He gently ran his finger over it and around to the back of her calf, noticing as her skin prickled with goosebumps at the touch.

"Pretty sensitive, huh?" he asked, looking up at her.

She was staring down at him, lips barely parted as she watched him run his hands carefully over her lower leg, not immediately realizing he'd addressed her. "Huh?"

"The wound... is it sensitive?" he repeated, still gently ghosting his finger around it.

"Uh, it's prickly, but not terribly painful." _Thank God on so many different levels that I chose today to shave, _she thought with relief, her face growing warm at his close proximity to her bare legs.

He gathered some of the herbal paste out of the jar onto a tongue compressor, holding it up toward the wound. "This'll burn like hell, then, but it'll cool within minutes," he assured her, pressing the gelatinous substance to her wound.

She inhaled through her teeth as the paste visibly sizzled, but her face didn't betray her as feeling any residual pain. He watched it for a moment before redressing it with the bandage.

"You really do kick a lot of ass, Charlie," he commented, impressed at her tolerance for pain.

"You mean when I'm not passing out cold in old lady's bedrooms?" she retorted quietly, embarrassed at the fact she'd succumbed to her mortal wound so easily.

"You really _can't_ take a compliment, _can_ you?" he chided gently, giving her delicate ankle a squeeze. "I mean it. And don't be too hard on yourself, alright? _Any_ human would've passed out from losing that much blood. The fact you even stepped up to keep me from getting struck in the neck is… Well... it means a lot. It's a valued trait that not a lot of people have."

She wanted to move her line of sight away from his, look away in embarrassment, but his golden eyes had completely ensnared hers, crystallizing her like a mosquito in their dim amber. There was no escaping his gaze, now.

"And, I never got to finish what I was saying in the hall, back there. I _know_ it sounded like a load of crap, but that whole pure-hearted thing… I meant it. Blood from someone whose intentions are pure is just as effective, if not more, than someone who just _happens_ to still be in possession of their virginity, which is an archaic measure of purity, _anyway_." He stood from the floor, sitting at her right side on the bed, his weight on the mattress causing her to lean toward him. "I never meant to insinuate that you were naive, or weak, because I obviously know you aren't. I just happen to think you're one of the most well-intentioned, good-hearted people I've ever met, and I knew your blood would work because of that. That's all."

"I- I really don't know what to say," she shook her head, laughing nervously at his confession. "...aside from the fact that that's probably the nicest thing anyone's ever said about me. I only _wish_ I believed it as much as you. I mean, I think terrible thoughts and say terrible things all the time!"

"Eh, nobody's perfect," he smiled, leaning imperceptibly closer to her, placing his hand over hers, his thumb gently tracing over her fingers. She closed her eyes, his left hand taking her smaller right hand into his as he inspected it carefully, her mind slipping back to the first night they'd met when their places had been switched. At the time she'd noticed his small shiver at her touch, but hadn't even thought on it until now, as she failed to repress one of her own as his large, gentle hand dexterously touched upon pressure points in her palm, melting away tension she'd been holding onto in her back, but inciting a brand-new tension within her. She focused on breathing in and out, pushing her nerves down as she internally wondered why, in the two years they dated, Ian never made her feel even_ fractionally_ as electrified as she was feeling now, not even in bed, but the simplest of gestures from Hellboy sent her blood running molten.

She swallowed, opening her eyes to find Hellboy's attention trained on her hand, eyebrows knit in concentration as he reverently examined her short nails, tracing his thumb over a few random scars and the faint freckle on her little finger. He tore his gaze away from her hand to look back up at her, both wearing unreadable expressions on their faces. They smiled slightly at one another, her hand still in his. After a moment, he patted it genially, moving to stand. "Well, say no more. You need to get rest in order for that troll crap to work properly. And by troll crap, I don't mean it's literal troll crap. At least, I hope it isn't. Shit, now I'm not sure. I... wouldn't do that to you on purpose, y'know."

She laughed quietly, scooting her legs under the thrown-back covers and looking at him, sidling toward the door. She _wanted_ to ask him to stay, sleep in his own bed, just to remain close to her, even though she knew he wouldn't. And she knew that she'd feel more than a little crushed by it, even though he would only be doing the gentlemanly thing as he was wont to do, being the picture-perfect gentleman he was, damn him.

She realized then and there that her biggest realized fear of the night didn't come from a scorpion the size of something between a Teddy bear and a Great Dane, nor did it come from a possessed corpse of an old lady, or a wall full of glistening beetles.

Her biggest fear was the sheer velocity at which she'd found herself falling for him, a man who she wasn't certain held any strong feelings for her, outside of a close friendship.

She held onto a slight hope that he might one day begin to feel the same; his stolen looks and off-handed compliments hadn't gone entirely unnoticed, after all. But she was still skeptical of any remote interest in her aside from perhaps a slight physical attraction, which for now meant next to nothing if there weren't feelings to accompany it. For all _she_ knew, he thought of her simply as a brother in arms, and nothing more.

They murmured their good-nights, him leaving the door slightly cracked as he disappeared down the hall. She lay there, breathing the scent of him from all around her in his bedroom in and out and allowing herself the tiniest bit of happiness that she had him in her life, and that even in her current state of frustration, she couldn't have asked for a better friend.

* * *

_**A/N: **Thanks again for reading! Please don't forget to review! -S.A.  
_


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